This is Stupid
by Saintsavory
Summary: Piper does something stupid, gets caught and has to pay the price. Turns out, she's happy to pay the price if it means getting to know her therapist better. This is an AU story.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I hope there are still Vauseman fans out there who want to read AU stories about Alex and Piper! I've been writing this story off and on for about a year. I plan to post regularly, though not daily, as I wrap this story up. Thanks to my beta, IrishViking20! Hope you enjoy.

* * *

This is stupid.

The car ride is stupid, the reason I'm riding with my dad is stupid and where I'm going is stupid. Every bump we hit on the road serves to remind me how _stupid_ this is and agitates me that much more.

I haven't looked at him for the duration of our car ride; instead, I twist my earbuds deeper and sit with my knee bent and foot balanced on the seat, head leaning against the car window. I wonder if he's intentionally hitting potholes just to make my skull bounce against the glass. It hurts, but I don't give him the satisfaction of adjusting my posture until he parks the car.

He turns off the engine. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No." I pause my music in the middle of _Bad at Love_. "What floor is this place on?"

"Fifth. Check in with the receptionist when you get off the elevator." He opens the car door. "Meet me in my office when you're done."

I grab my bag and exit the car without confirming his plan.

There aren't many high rise buildings in Darien—most people who live here take the train into Manhattan for work; however, my father quit his cushy New York job a few years ago to work in one of the three high-rises in Darien doing the same boring ass utility infrastructure work. I've been to his office a handful of times, and the sterile environment confirms what I long ago suspected: I could never work in corporate America.

We enter the elevator, and before he gets out on the third floor, he touches my shoulder. "Good luck, Piper."

I refrain from rolling my eyes, instead giving him a polite nod.

The bell chimes, indicating I've reached the fifth floor, which looks nothing like my dad's office space. The wall behind the receptionist's desk is covered from top to bottom with a variety of plants and flowers and a stone fountain is mounted on the opposite wall. To my right, there's a white leather sofa and two matching chairs separated by a tall, potted fiddlehead fern.

The young redheaded receptionist greets me. "Good afternoon, may I help you?"

I pop one earbud out. "My name is Piper Chapman. I'm here for an appointment."

"Welcome. We're glad you're here, Piper. If you wouldn't mind reading and signing these two forms, that would be fantastic." She hands me a clipboard. "Have a seat, and someone will be with you in a few minutes."

I sit on the sofa, scanning the confidentiality statement and patient consent form that my father has already signed, then scribble my signature. The woman in the armchair next to me is wearing a beige business suit, and I wonder if she's a patient, too. I scroll through my phone, trying to find an appropriate song to play for the setting I'm in, but the soft, meditative music wafting from a speaker in the ceiling coupled with the sound of the fountain is kind of nice.

A man opens the door and smiles when he spots the woman in the suit. "So good to see you again." She returns his smile and follows him to through the door. I wonder if they aren't supposed to use names of patients in the presence of others.

I direct my attention back to the receptionist and hold the clipboard up. "Do I give this to you?"

Before she answers, the door swings open again. "Hi." A tall, dark haired woman in glasses greets me with a thinner smile than the man who was in her place seconds ago. "How's it going?"

I hook my bag over one shoulder. "I've had better days."

"I might be able to help with that." She holds the door open, and I admire her crisp white blouse and tailored skirt.

I follow her past two doors, and she points to the third one. "We're in here."

The space is just as serene as the lobby and looks more like a small living room than an office. There are two large chairs, one with a blue blanket draped over the corner, and a small gray sofa next to a basket of throw pillows. The only light in the room comes from the bay window that takes up most of the wall and a lamp with an Edison bulb on an uncluttered modern desk.

I glance from the chairs to the sofa. "Where should I sit?"

"Wherever you'd like."

I hand her the clipboard, drop my bag on the oriental rug and then perch on the edge of the sofa.

"Thanks for these forms." She closes the door, then faces me again. "I'm Alex Vause. I'll be working with you over the next eight weeks."

"Seven," I reply.

She creases her brow.

"I went to a session in Camden already," I announce as if she's missing some pertinent information.

She flips to the second form on the clipboard. "I'm sorry to say that won't count."

There must be some kind of mistake. "What?"

"Your plan states that you have to attend eight consecutive sessions with the same therapist." She leans against her desk, and I'm drawn to her long legs and shiny patent leather heels. "So your session in Camden didn't count."

I let out a light huff.

She sets the clipboard down. "Why'd you decide to come here instead of continuing with the therapist there?"

I consider avoiding a response, but there's something about the way she's looking at me that makes me want to be truthful. "The therapist seemed pervy."

Her lips quirk to the side as she seemingly tries to conceal a smile. "I think you'll be comfortable here."

I tilt my head. "Are you saying you're not pervy?"

Her barely-there smile turns into a smirk as she wraps a finger and thumb around her eyeglasses. "We should start with introductions."

"You already told me your name," I state. "And I assume you know mine as well as the reason I'm here."

"I do." She moves to the contoured chair next to me. "But what I read about you and your situation is more clinical in nature. I'm hoping you're willing to share why you're here in your own words."

* * *

"_Why are you so fucking late?" Polly draped an arm around me while the other hand was occupied with a can of beer. "I'm on my second Coors."_

_I glanced around the yard, looking for adults or anyone who might rat us out. "I had second thoughts about getting the stuff."_

_She opened my bag and pulled out a bottle of vodka. "We made a pact with the rest of the gang—everybody has to contribute. Tonight was your turn."_

"_What if I get caught?"_

"_You're not going to get caught, Piper. This is our fifth party, and no one's gotten busted so far. You're so uptight," Polly sighed. "Aren't you the one who tells me we should live a little? We're about to graduate from high school—now's the time."_

_I tried to allow her reasoning to sink in as I pulled out a Ziploc bag with four joints. "Take this."_

_She grabbed it, holding it up for the other kids gathered near the porch swing to see. "Look what Piper brought!"_

"_Score!" Blake, the host of the party, jogged over. "I want one."_

"_We should probably wait until it gets darker or something." I swallowed hard. "Or until your parents go to sleep."_

"_They're not home," he stated proudly and reached into the Ziploc bag. "Rules are rules—I'm hosting the party, so I get a joint."_

"_Since when are those the rules?" I questioned as I watched Polly dump half the vodka into a gallon of fruit punch._

_He shrugged. "Since I made them the rules."_

_I shoved the other three joints back into my purse. I'd never smoked pot, and I didn't intend for that to be the first time. Besides, I had a big track meet the following morning._

_Polly approached me with the now half-empty bottle of Tito's. "Put this back in your bag." Instead of waiting for my reply, she shoved it into my purse. "Larry's on his way."_

"_Fuck Larry." Just the mention of my ex-boyfriend's name made me want a drink. I grabbed a red Solo cup and allowed Polly to fill it with the spiked fruit punch. _

_She finished the last sip of her beer, tossing the can into the recycle bin. "He's still pining over you, you know." _

"_He can pine all he wants." I took a sip, blanching at the potency of the cocktail._

_Polly held up her cup. "To finding Mr. Right."_

_I didn't say it aloud, but I thought about correcting her—Ms. Right. I'd only brought up the topic once with Polly, and she dismissed my sexual curiosity with something like 'aren't we all supposed to go through an experimental stage in our teenage years?'_

_The gate swung open and I thought my toughest chore that night would be warding off Larry's advances, but instead of my ex walking into the backyard, two men in uniform scanned the crowd._

"_Whose property is this?" One of the men asked._

_I watched Blake slowly raise his hand. "Uh, mine."_

"_Where are your parents, son?"_

"_They're, um, out of town."_

_I stood there motionless, wondering how I could toss my drink without the policemen seeing me. I even looked for a way out of the fenced yard, but I was trapped like a caged animal._

"_Looks like a party," the other officer stated, lifting the gallon of spiked fruit punch. "Are you all 21-years-old?" He looked at each of us. "I'm guessing not." He set the plastic container down and picked up a six pack of beer. "Is this from your parent's house, or did one of your guests bring it?"_

"_A guest," Blake replied, and before I knew it, he pointed to me. "It was Piper."_

"_Did you purchase this alcohol young lady?"_

"_I…um…I didn't bring the beer—that was here when I arrived." I could feel sweat prickling on my forehead. "I didn't technically buy the vodka…"_

"_Oh, we're talking technicalities here, are we?" He walked over to my purse and picked it up. "This yours?"_

"_Uhhh…" There was no use denying it as he was already pulling out my wallet._

_He handed my wallet to the other officer. "And this, I assume, is the vodka that you didn't 'technically' purchase?" _

"_I borrowed it from my parents," I confessed, now feeling my legs wobble beneath me. "It's not like I have a fake ID or anything."_

_He turned to his partner. "Mike, you locate an ID on this girl?"_

_He held my driver's license up and read, "Piper Chapman. Looks like you're going to celebrate your 18__th__ birthday soon. Too bad it's not your 22__nd__ birthday; then this would've probably turned out just fine for you…except for the distributing to minors part."_

_Something between a whimper and a moan escaped my mouth. _

_One of the officers said, "I don't see a fake ID."_

"_Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He sniffed the plastic bag before opening it. "You like to toke up, Ms. Chapman?"_

"_Those aren't for me." I took a step forward. "I don't smoke pot."_

"_Yet they're in your purse."_

"_I bought them for my friends, I swear." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm the captain of the track team, and I have a meet tomorrow. I wouldn't do something stupid like that."_

"_But you'd do something stupid like steal your parent's vodka, buy a few joints and drink this spiked, fruity concoction here?"_

"_I…" My head was spinning, and I felt weak. "I'm sorry…"_

"_Sorry's not going to cut it, Ms. Chapman."_

"_Please don't take me to jail," I pleaded as they escorted me to the front lawn. "Please. I'm begging you."_

"_Don't worry, you're not going alone. All your friends will be there with you," he laughed. "It'll be one, big party only this time, behind bars."_

* * *

I lean against the sofa cushion. "I'm sure whatever you read in your report just about covers it."

"All I know is you were sent here as part of a deal in a drug and alcohol case." She crosses her legs. "And that you're required to go through eight drug and alcohol counseling sessions."

"I don't have a drinking problem if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't thinking that."

I fold my arms. "Or a drug problem."

"I wasn't thinking that either."

I stare at her for a moment, trying to read her. I'm usually pretty good at judging a person's character, but this one is tough. "How old are you?"

Almost imperceptibly, she juts her chin back. "Why is that important for you to know?"

"I'm just making conversation." I shrug. "I read that developing a relationship with a therapist can be conducive to a client's personal growth."

Her lips tick up just a bit. "Almost 30. You?"

"Almost 18." I bend my knee, resting my ankle on the opposite leg. "Are you a psychologist?"

"I'm a behavioral counselor with a focus on substance abuse," she states as if she's explained her job a thousand times.

"So, you're not a doctor?"

"I'm not." She clicks a pen. "I finished my master's in December and am working on getting licensed."

I lean forward. "So, you're like a therapist in training?"

"I prefer the term _counselor_, but yes."

"Then they must not be taking my case too seriously," I reply, leaning back again and feeling a little more at ease.

She lets out a soft laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrug. "If they were really trying to educate or _scare_ me, they'd have assigned me to a licensed therapist or a psychologist."

"I'm not sure how you think this works, Piper." It's her turn to lean forward. "But you broke the law, and instead of spending time in jail, you get to meet with me to sort through some stuff. You can try using avoidance tactics all you want, but you're _required_ to be here." She sits back, stringing an arm over the back of the chair. "If you're smart, and I believe you are, you'd use our time wisely—_productively_—instead of trying to distract me."

Judging by her posture, Alex thinks she has the upper hand.

I maintain eye contact. "I don't need a therapist on training wheels to tell me how to be a good girl."

"Fine." She stands, running her hands down her thighs and effectively straightening the creases in her skirt. "You can sit here in silence for the next hour. I won't force you to talk." She moves behind the desk and shuffles a few papers. "It'll give me time to get some work done."

"Fine." I pick up a _Psychology Today_ magazine from the side table and flip aimlessly through it, pissed that she _does_ have the upper hand. I didn't realize I had the choice of not participating in these mandated substance abuse sessions, and now that I know I do, it bothers me even more.

"What's your story?" I ask, head buried in the magazine.

"My story?"

I nod, hoping she's looking my way.

"I don't have a story," she says through a chuckle.

"Everyone has a story." I glance at her over the top of the magazine as she bites her inner cheek like she's contemplating how to respond.

"I'll share some information about myself with you, but you have to do the same." She pauses. "And they have to be more than one-word responses."

I consider her offer for a moment. "Alright. Deal."

She moves back to the chair she was sitting in a moment ago. "I decided to build a career on substance abuse counseling after a stint in the drug world that nearly got me killed."

I didn't expect such a response, but judging from the serious look on her face, I believe she's telling the truth.

"I worked for an international drug cartel until I literally watched my friend's head get blown off because of the job." She blinks a few times before continuing. "So, Piper, what's _your_ story?"

I gulp, not knowing exactly how to respond.

"I'm not your average counselor," she states. "I lived a luxurious, lucrative life before turning things around, and if I can help other people figure their shit out, it makes me feel a little…redemptive."

Her stare penetrates through me, and I worry if I don't look away, I'll morph into exactly the kind of person I don't want to be, gushing about how much my privileged life sucks. I try to come up with a proper response, but I get distracted when I notice the top three buttons of her starched blouse are undone.

"I've never smoked pot and don't intend to," I manage to eek out. "And I've had a few beers or drinks at house parties—nothing enough to get me drunk."

"What happened that night at the party?"

"It was my turn to bring alcohol and a few joints." I shrug. "I never thought it would turn into this."

"Do you regret it?"

I conceal a snort. "Of course, I regret it. Who wouldn't?"

"A lot of people, I think."

"I made _one_, stupid, irresponsible mistake," I say. "And this is the punishment I get."

"Try not to see it as punishment," she responds. "Think of it as an opportunity to talk to an unbiased source about the stress of growing up in the modern world." She tosses the throw pillow that was behind her onto the other chair. "I wish I would've had someone to talk to at your age."

"Don't…Please don't do that—the whole _let me empathize with you_ shtick."

"It's not a '_shtick'_," she says in a solemn tone. "My job is to help you understand what drugs and alcohol can do to a person. I'm sure you get that, but I'm not the one who required you to be here, so cut me a little slack."

I consider her words, and while they're true, right now I blame Alex for my having to talk to a therapist. It's not fair to her, but it's the reality of how I feel.

"Did you go to jail?" I ask out of nowhere.

She raises her eyebrows. "I did."

That frightens me, but I try not to let it show. "For how long?"

"Long enough to realize how badly I'd fucked up my life."

I'm taken aback by her word choice.

"And long enough to get a few regrettable tattoos," she finishes.

I smile, grateful for the levity.

"How often do you drink?"

"I don't know…" I lift my shoulders. "When I'm at a party, which is pretty much every weekend."

"Do you think about drinking?"

I shake my head. "Not unless I'm in the moment, deciding if I want to have a beer or whatever else is being served."

She nudges her glasses up her nose. "What about drugs?"

"I already told you." I pull the pillow onto my lap. "I've never done drugs."

"Why'd you buy pot for your friends?"

I shrug again. "It was my turn."

Alex rests her elbows on her knees. "You take turns getting supplies?"

I don't look her in the eye.

"I'll take that as a yes." She lets out a small breath. "It's my understanding you didn't have a fake ID on you."

This time, I do meet her eyes. "I don't have one."

"Then how did you get the vodka and the pot?"

"I signed a confidentiality form," I reply instead of answering her question. "Whatever I say in this room stays between us, right?"

She nods. "The only time I'm required to report anything you say is if you intend to harm yourself or others."

"I'm not going to do that," I chuckle.

She issues a tiny smile. "Good."

"I took the vodka from my parent's house, and I got the pot from my brother's room," I confess.

She lifts her brows. "Do your parents know this?"

"They know about the vodka." I shift in my seat. "I told them I got the joints from some guy on the street."

"To protect your brother?"

I nod, feeling sheepish all of a sudden.

"How old is he?"

"He just turned 15." I look anywhere but at Alex. "He's not a bad kid—he just occasionally smokes to help with anxiety."

She slowly sits back. "He's a minor."

"But you can't tell anyone about this," I quickly respond. "You just told me that."

"I'm not going to tell anyone." She holds up a hand. "Does he know you stole it from him?"

"We didn't talk about it specifically, but I'm sure he noticed four joints were missing from his dresser."

"You should probably have a conversation with him about what you did and why it's wrong," she comments. "You _do_ understand it's wrong?"

"Yeah."

"If you don't talk with your brother, he might be headed down a dangerous path." She folds the cuff on her shirt. "I'm sure you'd want to protect him from that just as much as you'd want to protect him from your parents' wrath."

I nod.

She glances at the clock on the wall. "Looks like our time is up."

I follow her gaze, noticing it's a couple minutes before five o'clock. "Oh."

Alex walks towards the door. "I hope I wasn't too much of a perv, and you'll come back next week."

"Actually…" I toss my bag over a shoulder and then move in front of her. "You weren't pervy enough."

That causes her to smile, and as it turns out, Alex has a _perfect_ smile.


	2. Chapter 2

I have a relatively normal week at school after my first drug and alcohol counseling session, and I don't attend any parties the weekend between visits to the clinic. Not going to parties wasn't by choice—I'm predictably grounded for two months. The only things I'm allowed to do are go to school, track practice, and attend therapy sessions. My parents won't even let me to go to Polly's house to study.

Alex greets me the following Thursday afternoon. "Hey. Ready?"

I follow her down the hallway, admiring the way she fills out a gray pencil skirt. My eyes travel down her backside to her legs; she has strong calves. She steps aside allowing me to enter the same office as last time.

"How's your week been?"

"Fine…" I plop my bag on the ground. "Uneventful."

She lifts a clipboard off her desk, scanning a document. "Have you made good choices?"

"You mean have I drank?"

Although her head is still bowed, she lifts her eyes. "Yes."

"No, and I don't plan to until I graduate."

"Last I checked," she begins, abandoning the clipboard and sitting across from me. "You won't be 21 after high school graduation."

"I'm going to have a few drinks with my friends," I reply with a shrug. "What do you think kids do the summer before college?"

"Have fun, relax, reminisce about their high school years, but they shouldn't drink," she responds. "Otherwise you'll end up right back here."

I lift my brows. "I'm not sure that's such a bad thing."

Her face twitches. "It's a very bad thing. And because you're going through this whole eight-week counseling thing now, the court might decide to send you to jail if you get caught again. They're far less lenient the second time."

"I'm not dumb enough to get caught twice."

"I don't think you're dumb at all." She crosses her legs, and once again I'm drawn to how long and fit they are. "Which is why it's surprising to hear you say you're still going to drink after high school."

I raise my shoulders. "I could lie and say that I won't drink until I'm 21."

"Do that."

"Lie?"

"Don't drink until it's legal," she chuckles. "Do you know what alcohol does to your body?"

"An abundance of alcohol can harm the liver, whose job it is to break down harmful substances in the body," I begin. "That can lead to hepatitis, jaundice and cirrhosis, which is the buildup of scar tissue that eventually destroys the organ."

"Did you read a brochure before today's session?"

"We studied that stuff in my anatomy class."

She gives me a look, and I'm unsure if she's impressed by my knowledge or annoyed by it. "While the liver is the most commonly affected part of the body, it's not the only one," Alex begins. "Alcohol can interfere with how your brain makes memories; it can inhibit your ability to make good choices; it can lead to cardiovascular disease; and it can even lead to infertility over time."

"I don't plan on getting pregnant any time soon, so..."

"Did you miss the _over time _part?"

Ignoring her question, I go on. "We did a whole unit about alcohol and drugs last year. I know what it can do to my body."

"Then make smart choices," she responds.

"I'm not planning to binge drink or get shitfaced, Alex," I say. "I drink to be social."

I detect another peculiar twitch on her face when I call her by her first name, but she recovers quickly. "Do you have trouble being social?"

"No…it's just _that's_ what people do," I explain. "You have a drink in your hand while you're making small talk. I've watched adults do it my entire life."

"There's some truth to that," she admits. "But you can't drink until you're 21. I'm not making this up to ruin your post-high school fun—it's the law."

I decide to challenge her. "Did you drink in high school?"

Her expression shifts like she wasn't expecting that question and isn't quite sure how to proceed. "I did a lot of stupid stuff in high school."

"Did you ever get caught?"

She shakes her head and doesn't make eye contact. "No."

"Do you regret it?"

"Yeah, I do," Alex replies. "I regret most of my choices before I went to prison."

I take a moment to let that sink in—my therapist went to _prison_.

She leans forward, and I can tell that whatever she's about to say is serious. "Trust me, Piper, you don't want to fuck up your life by doing illegal shit."

Do all therapists swear with their clients? It makes Alex seem more _real_ to me rather than some white-coat doctor who sensors every word and minds his p's and q's.

I swallow hard, wondering what my life would be like if I went to jail. "What was prison like?"

"It sucked." She leaves it at that and hands me a pamphlet. "Read this. I'm going to quiz you on it next week."

I'm disappointed that she's not going to indulge me with answers to my more personal questions. "You're going to quiz me?"

"Sorry. I don't make up the rules." She stands. "Looks like our time is up for today."

I strap my purse over my shoulder. "Will you tell me more about your life next time?"

"No," she releases a half-laugh. "These sessions are about _you_."

"I thought we had a deal?"

"We did—the first time we met." She scribbles something on the clipboard. "I opened up to you to get you to do the same with me. It seems you're comfortable enough with me now to not have to resort to gimmicks."

"Then I don't know what we're going to talk about for our six remaining sessions."

"I'm sure we'll find something." She holds the door open for me, and I get a good whiff of her scent—she smells like vanilla and leather. "Stay out of trouble, kid."

I walk out of her office, wondering about Alex's life as it is today as well as what it was like before she got on the right side of the law. In fact, I spend the next week thinking about her. Nothing much turns up on the Internet—a few mentions of her indictment, an article she wrote for a psychology publication, a regional presentation she did last year, and her bio on the clinic's counseling webpage.

She strikes me as someone who has not only learned from her past, but who has also clawed her way to righteousness, yet there's something mysterious in her eyes that I can't quite put my finger on. Is it that she misses her old way of life? How _lucrative_ was her job in the drug cartel and will this new career be as profitable? Or is it something else entirely?

* * *

The week flies by and I'm eager to see my therapist again. I want to learn more about her, though I don't know how much more she's willing to divulge. I've never had an adult pay attention to me the way she does. Of course, it's her _job_ to listen to me, but still. She could be all clinical and professional, keeping the conversation solely about drugs and alcohol, but she indulges me by asking about other parts of my life.

I wave to my dad as he exits on the third floor, and then I press the 'door close' button on the elevator a few times.

"Hi, Piper," the receptionist greets me. It's the first time I've heard anyone refer to me by name in the waiting area. I look around to see no one else around me, so I wonder if that's the reason. "Ms. Vause is running a bit behind, but she should be out in a few minutes."

Am I supposed to call her _Ms. Vause_? I never asked before just diving in with Alex.

I sit on the white, leather sofa and pick up a magazine about home décor that seems like the most interesting one of the bunch. I flip a few pages, and then decide to engage with the receptionist. "How long have you known Al…Ms. Vause?"

"Since she started working here."

"Does she mostly see young adults?"

"She sees clients of all ages."

"Oh." I close the magazine. "Do you guys hang out when you're not working?"

"No, not really." She gives me a quizzical look, and then returns her attention to the computer.

The door swings open, and Alex appears. "Hey. Sorry, I'm running a few minutes behind."

She's wearing a burgundy colored wrap dress and the same black pumps she's worn the two other times.

I smile at the receptionist as I make my way to the door. "I wasn't waiting long."

"How are you?" she asks.

"Fine."

"You look…different," she observes, eyes traveling down my body.

Though my waves are limp by this time of day, I curled my hair this morning and put on a touch of makeup. As I rode the elevator up to the clinic, I dabbed some gloss on my lips.

"I had a presentation in class today." That much is true, though it's not exactly why I spruced myself up.

"How'd it go?"

"Not bad." I take my usual seat on the sofa. "Enough to earn an A."

She sets the clipboard on her desk. "Are you used to getting As?"

"I've only gotten one B in high school, and that was because I turned in my final history paper two days late."

She sits in the chair and crosses her long legs. "Are you prone to tardiness?"

"No. I had the state track meet three days before the paper was due, and I kept advancing to the next round, so I didn't have time to write it," I say. "It was about Black Monday in 1987 when the stock market crashed. It only took me like three hours to write five pages, but I wasn't at school to turn it in on time, so the teacher lowered my grade."

She grins. "That doesn't seem fair."

"I agree, but he wouldn't change his mind or give me extra points," I reply. "So I got a B."

"I'm sure one lousy B won't hurt your chances of getting into college."

"I got into Smith early decision, so you're right, it didn't." I grin, and then turn the tables. "What kind of student were you?"

"The kind that didn't care," she replies with a light laugh. "I read all the assigned books and probably a hundred more, but I put zero effort into getting good grades."

"Why?"

"I didn't see the point of it all when I was your age." She lifts her shoulders. "My mom couldn't afford to send me to college, so I knew I'd have to find a job that didn't require a diploma."

"You don't have a college diploma?" I raise my brows. "How's that even possible?"

"I do now, but I didn't take the traditional path." She taps a pen against the armrest. "They had a _college in prison _system, so I earned a few credits that way, and then finished my undergrad at Central Connecticut."

"And you're getting your master's now?"

"I already finished the coursework for my master's," Alex says. "I just have to complete 3,000 hours of supervised clinical services with direct interaction with patients, and then I'll get my license."

"If you're supposed to be supervised, why isn't anyone sitting in on our sessions?"

"Technically, no one has to be in the room with me, although occasionally my supervisor sits in," she explains. "I go through my notes with him every morning."

"You've written notes about me?"

"Of course I have," she chuckles.

I lean towards her. "Can I see them?"

"They're confidential." She gets to her feet. "But nothing I've written would surprise you."

"Why can't I see notes about myself?"

"I can summarize them for you orally."

That word sticks in my head. "Ok."

She stands behind her desk with her fingers splayed on the wooden surface. "I don't think you have a substance abuse problem," she states matter-of-factly. "You got caught up in teenage shenanigans and made a costly mistake."

I stand across from her and try to peek at the file on her desk. "You really think that?"

"I do." With her eyes still on me, she closes the manila folder and smirks. "You still can't see what I wrote."

I fold my arms. "I'm going to research if that's true or not."

Another soft laugh escapes. "That you can't see my notes?"

I nod. "It sounds suspicious."

She places the folder in a desk drawer. "You're tenacious; I'll give you that."

I return to the sofa. "So, if you don't think I have a drinking problem, why do I still have to come to these sessions?"

Instead of sitting in the armchair, she sits next to me on the sofa. "I don't argue with what the court mandates."

"If the court ordered me to attend substance abuse sessions, how is it that I can talk to you about whatever I want?"

"I give you quizzes about alcohol and drugs after every session just to be sure you understand how they can harm your body," Alex begins. "But it's evident to me and my supervisor that you're not in danger of repeating your offenses or hurting yourself or others."

"Your supervisor thinks that, too?"

She nods.

"But I told you I'm going to drink after I graduate," I say.

"You're a typical teenager, Piper," she comments. "You've given me no reason to believe you're going to binge drink or develop a drug addiction."

I blink at her. "I won't."

"I'm glad."

There's a moment of silence between us and that's when I see a little mischief in her eyes.

"You're ok if we talk about other stuff?"

"As long as it doesn't cross the client/counselor line, I'm open to it."

I stand, shoving my hands into my back pockets. "Can I talk about relationship stuff?"

She hesitates before answering. "I suppose."

I take a moment to consider the ramifications of divulging my innermost thoughts, and then I decide this is as safe a space as any, so I might as well go for it. "Ok, well…I wonder if…I sometimes have thoughts…_feelings_…about girls," I confess.

Her face tics almost imperceptibly as if she wasn't expecting such an admission. "What kind of thoughts?"

I keep my eyes trained on her. "Sometimes it's about how in shape they are or how they look in a certain outfit or something. Other times it's more of a…sexual thing."

"I see." Alex sits a little taller. "It's perfectly natural to be attracted to other girls."

"I don't think my friends and parents would see it that way."

She adjusts her lenses. "Are you concerned what other people might think if you're gay?"

I shake my head vigorously. "I'm not gay."

"But you have occasional sexual thoughts about girls," she says.

I swallow hard again. "Yes."

"It doesn't matter how you define yourself if that's what you're worried about," Alex replies. "You can like men, women or both and still consider yourself straight. Labels are meaningless unless you believe them."

I know I'm about to take a major risk, but I go for it anyway. "How do you define your sexuality?"

Her brows rise. "I can't answer that, Piper."

My bold streak continues. "Does my question make you uncomfortable?"

"If you weren't my client, the question wouldn't make me uncomfortable, but seeing that you are…"

My hands are all sweaty as I finish her sentence for her. "You can't answer it."

"I _won't_ answer it." She moves behind her desk and jots something on a sticky note. "I'm not an adolescent or relationship counselor, but I can refer you to one of my colleagues who I'm sure could help you sort this out."

"I don't want to talk to anyone else."

She clenches her jaw. "I'm not properly trained to assist you with matters other than substance abuse."

I put my hands on my hips. "You said we could talk about anything."

"We _can_ talk about anything," she sighs. "But I'm not going to be as effective at helping you define your sexuality the way someone else in the clinic can, and I certainly won't answer personal questions from clients."

I want to point out that she has already divulged personal information, but I refrain for fear of pushing the matter too far.

She glances at her watch. "Our time is up anyway."

I grab my bag and head to the door. Usually, Alex opens it for me and watches me walk down the hallway, but this time, she takes a seat behind her desk.

I open the door, then twist my neck to look at her. "See you next week."

Her head is lowered as she writes something on a notepad. "See you then."

While it's true that she didn't have to answer my highly personal question, she kind of did with no response at all. I have a feeling Alex is a lesbian. I don't know why that excites me—it's not like I can be with her; she thinks of me as a client or worse, a kid. I hate the thought of that.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm thrilled to see so many Vauseman fans still out there! Thanks so much to those of you who left a review. A couple of people wrote that they're concerned about Piper and Alex's age difference. I agree that it's significant, but rest assured, I'll tackle that issue with a deft hand in later chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I am terribly sorry, but this chapter is _not_ told from Alex's POV like I mentioned in my author's note yesterday (and since removed.) I got ahead of myself, so I apologize. Because of my snafu, I will post this short chapter today and the Alex chapter tomorrow.

* * *

After an early dinner with my family, I head to my room to study for finals. Tomorrow is calculus followed by European history, and I haven't spent much time on either. Before diving in to differentiating parametric curves, I check my cell phone and see two missed calls from unknown numbers. I listen to the voicemail:

"Hey, it's Alex Vause from the Peterman Clinic. Your calculator must've fallen out of your bag in my office earlier today. I'm assuming it's yours and not my 70-something year old client I met with before you. It's 5:30 now, and I'll be in the office for another 20 minutes if you want to swing by to get it."

As I listen to the next voicemail from a different number, I dig in my bag, removing two textbooks and my notebook, and discover that sure enough, my calculator is missing.

"It's Alex again. I'm assuming either you don't need the calculator tonight or you haven't heard my earlier message. I just left the clinic and brought the calculator with me in case you desperately need it tonight. Call or text this number if you want it before I see you next week. Bye."

My heart beats a little faster and my hands shake with excitement at having an excuse to talk to Alex in a setting other than in her office. I hit the redial button.

"Hello?" she answers.

"Hi, it's Piper Chapman." I smile into the phone. "I got your messages about my calculator."

"Hey, Piper." I hear what sounds like a car door shutting. "I hope you don't need it tonight."

"Actually, I do," I reply. "My calculus final is at 8:15 tomorrow, so I need to study tonight."

"I brought it with me, so if you want to pick it up in the next hour or so..."

"That would be great." I slip into my Nikes. "Where should I meet you?"

I hear a little bell chime. "I'm at the Roasted Bean on 98th Street."

"Ok, I'll be there in like 15 minutes."

I hang up and quickly change out of the shirt I've worn all day in favor of a clean, light blue t-shirt. I decide to take my bag with me in case there's a chance I could study at the coffee shop with Alex nearby. Now it's a matter of convincing my parents to allow me to leave the house.

I walk into the living room. "I just got a call from my therapist, who found my graphing calculator in her office. It must've slipped out of my bag."

"Don't you have a math test tomorrow?" my mom asks.

I nod. "Calculus—it's my first exam tomorrow morning."

"You can take your car to get it," my dad says. "But don't use this as an excuse to go to a friend's house."

"I won't," I reply. "She's at The Roasted Bean just around the corner. I might study there for a little while if that's ok."

My father gives me a look.

I roll my eyes. "You can track my location on your cell phone, dad. I promise, this isn't an excuse to hang out with my friends."

"Fine but be back in an hour. You're still grounded, Piper."

"Ok." I spin around with a smile as I head out the door to meet Alex.

* * *

The Roasted Bean is my favorite coffee shop in Darien, though I don't go there as often as I'd like. It's not a typical high school hangout, but they have open mic night every Tuesday, and some of my friends have participated.

I straighten my hair in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car and making my way to the coffee shop. There are two large windows in the front, allowing me to see that it's fairly crowded inside. Before I go in, I take a moment to locate Alex. She's sitting at a table at the far end of the coffee shop just behind the long, leather sofa. My lips tug up as I enter.

"Hi, Alex." I greet her with more exuberance than intended.

She jumps at my unexpected presence. "Oh, hey." She pulls out an earbud. "I have your calculator." She shoves a hand in her bag, pulling out the device. "Here it is."

"Thank you so much." I take it from her. "I'm glad you brought it with you, otherwise, I would've been screwed for my exam tomorrow morning."

She gives me a small smile. "I figured you might need it."

"Where was it?"

She cracks her neck from side to side as if staring down at paperwork has made her muscles tighten. "On the rug in my office, halfway under the sofa."

"I guess it slipped out when I picked up my bag." I sit across from her. "I really appreciate it."

She eyes me suspiciously as I make myself comfortable. "No problem. See you next week."

"I'm going to study here for a while if you don't mind." I pull my calculus textbook out.

She glances around the room. "I, um…"

"All of the other tables are taken." I shrug. "And I can't do math problems on the sofa—I need a flat surface."

"Fine, but I have work to do, so..." She twists the bud back in her ear.

I lean forward. "What are you working on?"

Her head is bowed. "Clinical notes."

"Are you writing about me?"

Although her head is still lowered, she lifts her eyes. "I haven't gotten to you yet."

"Will you tell me when you do?"

"No," she lets out a half-laugh. "Like I told you earlier, my notes are confidential."

"Right."

She refocuses on her task.

I complete one math problem before glancing at her again. "What music are you listening to?"

She ignores my question, so I lean closer and ask the same question a bit louder.

"I heard you the first time," she sighs as if she's annoyed by the interruption. "If you must know, I'm listening to Aimee Mann."

"I love her."

She side eyes me. "Aren't you a little young to appreciate her music?"

I shake my head. "In 2016 she was part of the _30 Days 30 Songs_ campaign where musicians put out previously unreleased music in protest of Donald Trump when he was running for President. She released _Can't You Tell_, which doesn't appear on any of her albums."

Alex raises her eyebrows. "I didn't know that."

"I liked that song, so I downloaded some of her other music," I say. "Did you know she was the co-founder of the 80s band 'Til Tuesday?"

"Yeah." She grins. "I know that much."

"What song are you listening to now?"

She glances at her iPhone. "_Today's the Day_ from the Lost in Space album."

"I'm not familiar with that one." I wiggle my fingers and reach for her earbuds.

She hands one end of the cord to me.

I pop it into my ear and listen to the chorus. "She has a beautiful, almost haunting voice."

"She does." Alex smiles and for the first time tonight, it doesn't seem like she's annoyed by my presence.

I hand her the other end of her headphones. "I'm going to get a peppermint tea." I stand. "Let me buy you a drink for returning my calculator."

"Like I mentioned, it was no trouble."

"Do you prefer coffee or tea?"

She brings a mug to her lips. "I have decaf already, but thanks."

"I can get you a refill," I suggest.

She holds one hand up. "I'm fine, Piper. Really."

"Ok." I walk to the counter and order my tea along with four French macarons.

As I wait for the barista to complete my order, I watch Alex. There's nothing much to _watch_ per se, but she has a definite presence in the crowded space. She's the most attractive person in the room, and I wonder if she knows that. She doesn't strike me as someone who flaunts her beauty.

"Here you go." The barista slides my tea across the counter.

"Thanks." I make my way back to Alex. "Since you didn't want a drink, how about a macaron?"

She eyes the tiny delicacies. "You didn't have to buy me anything."

"Pick any two." I point to each one. "There's lemon, blueberry, pistachio and mango."

"I love pistachio." She takes a bite. "I haven't had the macarons here."

"Have you been to the French bakery on Boylston Street?" I take a bite of the lemon one.

She finishes chewing. "Yes. Everything they make is delicious."

"Especially the croissants," I say, popping the rest of the lemon one into my mouth. "Blueberry or mango?"

"Either is fine."

"Ok." I lift the purplish one. "Have the mango."

"That's the one I wanted anyway," she says with a grin.

I prefer Alex in this setting where she can be a _normal_ person rather than my shrink.

"How many more hours do you have to complete before getting your license?" I ask.

She sips her coffee. "A little under 600, which is another six weeks at the clinic."

"That's not bad," I respond. "When did you start?"

"A year and a half ago," she replies. "I work 30 hours a week for the most part, but there are times when a counselor is away, so I take some of his or her sessions."

"But only cases about substance abuse, right?"

"Mostly." She sets her coffee cup down. "I can do general counseling sessions."

"Just not ones about sexuality," I note.

Alex gives me a look as if she knows what I'm hinting at. "That's not my specialty."

I sip my tea. "What does general counseling look like?"

"Depression, anxiety, loss of a loved one," she replies with a shrug. "Although each case is different, those are relatively easy sessions for me to cover."

I don't push it with the whole sexuality thing. "What do you want to do after you get your license?"

"Pretty much what I'm doing now," she says. "They've offered me a full-time job if I want to stick around Dairen."

"That's great."

She takes another sip of coffee. "I just don't know if I want to stay in suburbia."

I dip the teabag in and out of my cup. "Where would you want to practice?"

"My supervisor told me about this traveling position where counselors cover for maternity leaves or extended leaves of absences," she says. "I kind of like the idea of moving around—living all over the country for a month or two at a time, you know?"

"That sounds interesting."

"We'll see." She picks up her pen, tapping it on her notepad. "I really have to get back to work, Piper."

I flip the page in my textbook. "Yeah, I should probably study."

Putting my words into action is another thing entirely. I'm distracted by Alex's presence. I glance up at her every minute or so and watch her expression change as she moves from one note to the next. Sometimes she flips through pages in a folder or touches the tip of her pen to her lips. _Those lips_…As she concentrates on writing something, her tongue sometimes darts out, licking her lower lip, and I'm mesmerized.

She glances at me, and I quickly avert my eyes and fumble with my calculator as it nearly tumbles to the floor.

Over the next 30 minutes, I do my best to concentrate on calculus problems, but this was probably not the best idea from a productivity standpoint. My mobile phone buzzes, so I pick it up to see a message from my father about heading home.

"I have to go," I sigh.

"Good luck on finals," Alex replies.

"Thanks." I stand, strapping my bag across my body. "By the time I see you next week, I'll be done with senior year."

She creases her brow. "This is your last week of school?"

I take the remaining sip of tea. "It's the last week of classes, but I have graduation practice next week."

Alex smiles. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." I grab the empty plate and my glass. "Do you come here often to work?"

"Once or twice a week," she says, linking her fingers and stretching her arms forward.

I grin. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'd like that."

She'd _like_ that? I wave goodbye and turn around with a huge grin on my face.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: So often I write stories from one point of view; however, I sometimes find myself wishing I could describe what the other person thinks and feels, so I've tested the waters in a few of my stories by writing both points of view. This chapter will be from Alex's POV, and from here on out, you'll read both points of view within any given chapter.

* * *

_What the fuck did I just say_? I close my eyes, bend my elbow on the table and cradle my forehead in my hand. That was not what I wanted to come out of my mouth, but I'd feel like a fool if I chased after Piper with an, _Oh, I didn't mean that. Actually, I don't think meeting you again socially is a good idea at all_.

Fuck.

I glance out the window and watch Piper get into her car. She tosses her bookbag into the back, and then gets into the driver's seat. Her smile is something to behold. I hope she's not giddy because of what I just said. Maybe I should fix this before it gets out of hand. Now that I have her number in my cell phone, I open a text to her and begin typing: _I shouldn't have said that, Piper. We can't meet casually like we did tonight._

No. I erase that and try again, leaving out the first sentence. I stare at my phone for a minute, and then hit send.

I try to bury myself in work, but I can't help glancing at my phone every few seconds, waiting for a response. It's no use. I pack up my things and head home.

* * *

"I didn't expect you home so early," my roommate greets me from her spot on the couch. "I was just about to find something raunchy to watch on TV."

I toss my bag on the chair. "I'm not in the mood."

"You're not in the mood for raunchy television?" Nicky sits a little taller. "Did something happen?"

"No," I sigh, making my way to the kitchen. "Yes…maybe…I don't know."

She follows me. "Well, which is it?"

"It's about a client." I open the refrigerator and pull out a beer.

"Is it something you can discuss?" She crosses her arms. "Or is this another confidential thing that you sulk about but can't talk about?"

I pop the longneck open and take a drag. "It's not confidential."

"Then spill, Vause!"

I blink at her, deciding how far to take this. "There's this client…this girl."

Nicky holds up her hand. "Say no more: you have the hots for one of your patients."

"They're _clients_, not patients, and that's not it at all." I return to the living room. "Not entirely anyway."

"What is it then?" she asks hot on my heels.

"I may have misled her," I admit, plopping onto the sofa.

"In your diagnosis?"

"I don't diagnose people," I remind her. "I mean, sometimes I kind of do, but that's not it." This is no time to remind Nicky about how my profession works.

She sits next to me, tucking one leg underneath her. "Did you give her bad advice?"

"No."

"Did you say something offensive?"

"No."

She holds her hands out. "You wanna play 20 questions or tell me what the fuck is going on?"

I sigh before diving in. "One of my clients left something behind in my office, and I met her at the coffee shop to return it."

Nicky shrugs. "Sounds fine so far."

"She sat with me for a while, and we were talking like friends—or like people who are _becoming_ friends," I continue. "Just before she left, she said something about maybe seeing each other again, and I told her I'd like that."

She shakes her head. "Still not seeing the problem."

"The thing she left in my office was a graphing calculator." I blink at her. "That she needs for her high school calculus exam."

"I'm sorry." She extends her ear towards me. "Did you say _high school_?"

I fling my head back on the cushion. "Yes."

Nicky giggles. "You have a crush on a high school student?"

"I don't have a crush on her." I lift my head. "She's just…"

She looks at me expectantly.

I stand with a huff. "She's 17."

"That's younger than even_ I_ would go," she comments.

"I'm not going anywhere with this…with her," I say. "And I don't have a crush."

She smirks. "You mentioned that."

I take another pull of beer. "I enjoy talking to her, and I can't; I _shouldn't_."

"You can't _enjoy_ it or you can't talk to her?" she questions.

I rake a hand through my hair. "I _have_ to talk to her—she's my client. We have three more sessions."

Nicky eyes me but allows me to continue.

"The way I left things at the coffee shop might have misled her."

"Just to be clear, you like _talking_ to this girl, but you don't want to fuck her?"

"Fuck her?" That thought hadn't entered my mind until she just brought it up. "No!"

"_No_, because she's unattractive or _no_ because she's your client?"

"She's my _17-year-old_ client," I all but shout, leaving out the fact that she's the _opposite_ of unattractive.

She nods slowly. "Yeah I could see that being a problem."

I place my hand on my forehead and shake my head. "I texted her before coming home, telling her we can't meet casually again."

"Do you usually text clients?"

"No," I respond. "But I had her calculator after I left work and needed to get in touch with her."

She bops her head. "Sounds logical."

I reach into my purse, pulling out my phone. "She texted back."

"What'd she say?"

I click the button and read it to myself: _Too bad. I like talking to you_.

"Well?" Nicky asks.

"She likes talking to me." I toss my phone on the sofa and groan.

"Relax, Vause. It's not the end of the world." She rubs my shoulders. "Just tell her you'll see her at your next appointment. Talk it out in person."

"You're right." I sit on the edge of the sofa and type: _See you at next week's session_.

"Better?"

I bite my lower lip. "Not really."

"You know what will take your mind off this?"

"What?" I ask.

Nicky grins. "Raunchy television."

"Not tonight." I stand and head to my room. "I didn't finish all my clinical notes, and I have to be done by morning."

"Suit yourself," she yells as I close the door to my bedroom.

I strip out of my work clothes and think about tonight. This wasn't the first time I felt totally at ease with Piper. She has this almost sneaky way that makes it easy to share personal information with her. Before I know it, I'm sharing stuff about myself I would normally not divulge to clients. It doesn't help that she's adorable. It's wrong _on every level_ for me to have these thoughts, and I'm frustrated with myself. Although I haven't technically done anything wrong, I'm teetering on the brink of disaster. I pride myself on my professionalism, and anything that deters from that is unacceptable.

Part of me wonders if I should ask my supervisor to meet with Piper for the last three sessions. Of course, he'd wonder why, and I can't think of a good enough excuse. The only other thing I could do is not show up for those last three sessions. But then that would put my colleagues in a bind, which goes back to the whole professional thing.

I change into a loose t-shirt and pajama pants and try to shake away the guilt that's building inside. Maybe if I focus on work, I'll be fine and the matter will die down over time.

I pull out my folders and notepad and pick up where I left off at the coffee shop with my client, Alan Liu. It's easy to transcribe notes about my sessions with him. It's just as easy for Belinda Liberto. I spend the next half hour finishing those notes before getting to my last client of the day, who happens to be Piper. I review my sloppy handwriting and realize I write about half the amount of information about her as I do for my other clients. Is that because I find myself more engaged in conversation with her? Maybe it's because she really doesn't have a substance abuse problem like my other clients. Yes, that has to be it.

I write her name on the top of a sheet of yellow legal paper and stare at it for a moment. _Piper_. I've never met anyone with that name, and I like the way it feels when I say it aloud. I also like the way it looks in ink. Without examining that more carefully, I return to clinical mode and jot a few things down. When I say _a few_, I mean two sentences about how she's aced every alcohol and drug quiz I've given her. There's nothing more to say. Maybe I'll ask my supervisor if we could release her early since we both agree she doesn't have an issue. It's unlikely he'll go for that, but I can try.

* * *

The week goes by in a flash, and before I know it I'm walking down the hallway to meet Piper for our session. I did nothing to mentally prepare for this meeting, deciding it would be better to be off the cuff than perfectly planned.

I open the door and see her in her usual spot in the reception area. "Hey. Ready?"

"Hey." She stands, tugging at her khaki shorts.

Piper mentioned being on the track team, and I'm sure if I really examined her legs, which I won't, I'd notice how defined they are. Instead, I turn my back to her and walk down the hallway towards my office. "How'd finals go?"

"Good," she replies. "Most of the teachers are still grading them, but thanks to you I got an A on the calculus exam."

I step aside, allowing her to enter my office and keeping my eyes trained on her face. "Why thanks to me?"

"You returned my calculator." She sets her bag down, ensuring that it's fully upright. "I couldn't do partial derivatives of vector-valued functions in my head."

That causes me to chuckle. "Maybe you're not as smart as you seem."

She takes my joke as lightly as I meant it. "Oh, I'm definitely as smart as I seem."

I switch gears to the topic that's occupied my thoughts for the past week. "About the other night," I begin. "I want to make sure there's no misunderstanding between us."

"Misunderstanding?"

We stand almost toe to toe in the center of the room.

I shift my balance from one foot to the other. "Like I said in my text, we can't see each other outside of these walls."

"Ok." She shrugs.

I didn't expect it to be this easy. "Ok?"

"Ok for now," she corrects. "When I'm done with my court mandated sessions, we can see each other socially if we want."

"Piper, we can't…" I let out a short, incredulous laugh. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You're a kid," I state plainly. "I don't socialize with teenagers."

She lifts her eyebrows. "This is about my age?"

"We're _worlds_ apart," I reply, hoping she understands. "You're about to graduate from high school, and I've already earned my master's degree."

"Oh." She looks away. "If that's how you see it."

I shake my head in small bursts. "It's not just how I see it—it's reality."

"Fine." She sits on the sofa and remains silent for a moment. As if suddenly remembering something, Piper reaches for her bag. "Before I forget, I have something for you." She pulls out a flash drive. "After we talked about Aimee Mann at the coffeeshop, I thought you might enjoy some of the music from the _30 Days, 30 Songs _project."

"You didn't have to do that, Piper." I take the flash drive even thought I probably shouldn't indulge her.

"I wasn't sure if you're a Trump supporter or if you lean left…" she lets her statement hang in the air.

I don't think there's any harm in engaging about this benign topic. "Let's just say I'm not a fan of our current President."

"I was hoping you'd say that." She places her bag on the floor. "Even though I was a freshman when Trump was running for President, my history teacher helped us understand the differences in Republican and Democratic platforms," she begins. "I got super into the presidential campaign and tried to find organizations that supported equity and access. That's when I discovered the _30 Days, 30 Songs_ project."

I'm impressed with her knowledge and interest in our nation's government.

She pulls a slip of paper out of her pocket and reads: "This project was created to combat apathy, entertain the citizenry, and provide a soundtrack to resistance. Over the next four years, the producers of _30 Days, 30 Songs_ will assemble a playlist of 1,000 songs." She folds the paper and sticks it back in her pocket. "_The Washington Post_ wrote a short piece on it, describing it as a playlist of songs that President Trump will hate."

I can't help grinning. "I'm guessing I'd like the music then."

"They're still releasing songs," she mentions. "I wrote the website on the flash drive if you're interested in signing up to get the daily download."

"Thank you." I place the device on my desk. I have to find a way to turn the conversation back to the reason we're in this room, otherwise, I'll casually talk to Piper about music or politics for the next hour. "Did you drink when you found out Trump had won?" I lamely ask.

She gives me a peculiar look. "I was 14."

"And?"

"I didn't have my first sip of alcohol until second semester of senior year." She leans forward. "I thought we agreed that I don't have a drinking problem?"

"I believe that, yes," I state. "But it's my job to dig a little deeper than surface level stuff."

"Dig as deep as you want." She lifts her shoulders. "I have nothing to hide."

This girl does not have a substance abuse problem, and I don't think these sessions are necessary. In fact, they're a waste of time, but I don't have the power to end her sessions before she's completed the eight that the court mandated.

"What do you want to talk about today?" she asks.

"It's never about what I want to discuss. What would _you_ like to talk about?"

She looks away for a second, and then meets my eye. "One of my classmates likes me."

"Ok…" I tread carefully. "Do you like this person?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

This shouldn't feel as awkward as it does. "Maybe you should go on a date or something."

"It's just that…I've never been with a girl," Piper admits.

I curse myself for not being able to keep my expression neutral. "It's not all that different from being with a boy."

"I think it would be _vastly_ different."

I tilt my head. "How so?"

"For starters, they have entirely different body parts," she begins. "Bulging parts."

If I was as relaxed as I usually am with other clients, I'd laugh at her observation. "Anatomy aside."

"Girls and boys think differently. We're at different stages of brain development and maturity," she offers. "Didn't you study all this in college?"

"I'm not arguing with you," I reply, again impressed by her knowledge. "Males and females _are_ different, but when it comes to relationships, you might approach them the same way."

"It just _feels_ different."

"Why?"

"I don't know." She raises her shoulders. "I probably shouldn't put the cart before the horse, but I think kissing a girl will feel different."

This whole conversation makes me uncomfortable, but I don't want Piper to know that. I place my hands on my lap and try to appear super professional. "The physical sensation might be, but the feelings you have will probably be similar," I say. "When you like someone, there's a sense of exhilaration that courses through your body. That's going to be the same no matter who you kiss."

"Have you ever kissed a woman?"

I'm taken aback by her question and _definitely_ won't answer it. "This isn't about me."

"This is the part I don't understand." Piper puts her elbows on her knees. "You'll talk to me about other aspects of your life, but when it comes to relationships, you won't say a word."

"The stuff I've told you about myself is public knowledge," I try, keeping my voice even. "I'm not going to answer questions about my personal life."

"Why not?"

My leg begins bouncing, so I get to my feet. "Because that crosses a professional boundary."

"Every time I try, you get all worked up!"

"If you want to talk to me about your personal life and who's crushing on who, I'm happy to listen and provide advice that's within my purview." I lean against my desk, trying to act far more casual and unaffected than I feel. "But you don't get to turn the tables on me."

She glances away and tightens her jaw.

I fold my arms. "So, you can either continue telling me about this girl who likes you or we can change the subject entirely." _Please do that_.

She twists her neck and eyes me again. "I didn't say it was a girl."

"You alluded to it."

Piper remains silent for the next minute, fiddling with the hem of her Smith College t-shirt. Even though I'd like to fill the awkward silence, I don't speak.

"I want to know what it feels like to press my lips against another girl's," she says in a low voice.

I try holding my face steady, but I feel my cheek twitch.

"I would imagine her lips to be soft," Piper continues. "Just like her touch."

I unfold my arms and clench the edge of the desk as I glance out the window instead of at my client.

"I've never…you know…_touched_ another girl."

My mouth is _very_ dry. I grab the glass of water on my desk and take a few sips.

"And I want to experience that."

"Then you should," I quickly recover verbally, but my pulse is beating like thunder in my ears. "I mean, don't go around breaking girls' hearts. If you want to try a purely physical relationship, let her know that."

"What if it's more than that?"

I return to the armchair, perching just on the edge. "More than physical?"

She nods.

"Let the relationship develop naturally," I try. "You have a good head on your shoulders. I think you'll know how to proceed when the time is right."

"Then I'm going to go out with her." Piper stands. "Thank you."

I shove my glasses to the top of my head and smile as best I can. "You're welcome."

She puts her hands on her hips. "Do I have to do another stupid drug quiz today?"

"Yes." I skim past her, and our arms touch, sending electricity through my veins. I'm grateful to be wearing a long-sleeved blouse to cover the goosebumps on my arm. I dig in my top drawer for the 10-question quiz. "Here you go."

She grabs a pen out of the container on my desk, then returns to the sofa and reads through the questions. "These are too easy."

"You'd be surprised how many people fail."

Piper glances up at me. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." I chuckle, putting my glasses back in place and thanking God we're past the whole _Piper wants to touch a girl _conversation.

She hastily circles answers on the multiple choice quiz. "I can't imagine failing _any_ test much less one that's so basic." Five minutes later, she hands me the paper. "Done."

I sit at my desk and grade it. "Another perfect quiz."

She straps her bag over a shoulder. "I'm guessing we're out of time."

I glance at the clock. "We are."

"I'll let you know how it goes with Zelda."

"Zelda?" I don't like her name.

Piper nods.

"Good luck." I issue a tight-lipped smile. "See you next week."

She walks out of my office, and I let my head fall back. This is stupid—I usually have no problem helping clients come to terms with whatever it is they're struggling with even if it's unrelated to drugs or alcohol. I've also never had sexual feelings about a client—not that I have _sexual feelings_ about Piper—that would be very bad. I just find her cute and smart and far more mature than her age. All I have to do is get through two more sessions, then we'll probably never see each other again.

* * *

Second Author's Note: I loved writing this chapter. In some ways, it was freeing to allow Alex to "speak" when usually, I keep stories in one person's point of view. Hope you enjoyed getting a glimpse into how Alex is handling her non-crush on Piper.


	5. Chapter 5

That weekend, I decide to go on a date with a woman I've had a purely sexual relationship with for the better part of a year. Although she calls me far more often than I contact her, I enjoy her company in tiny doses. We've established long ago that we're incompatible in other areas of life, so there's no question what's going to happen when we get together. The problem is, she won't just come over or invite me to her apartment—she insists on meeting in a public place first. I don't usually complain, but I'm just not up for having a long dinner with her tonight, so I suggest we meet at the pizza parlor around the corner from her house. We'll chat for 30 minutes max, and then I can follow her to her place for a quick fuck.

"Hey," I greet her on the sidewalk just before she enters the restaurant.

She hugs me. "Hi, you."

That's how she always greets me, and it makes me cringe. I have no idea why; it just does.

"I'm starving."

Awesome, that means this will be a short-lived experience. "Let's eat."

I pay for a slice of cheese pizza for myself and a slice of Hawaiian for her, and then join her at a corner table.

"How's your week been so far?" she asks.

I sip my Diet Coke. "Fine. You?"

"Great. I went to this little boutique…" Sylvie goes on and on about her week, and I'm barely paying attention. I never understood why she always wants to meet before we inevitably fuck, but now I think I get it: she has no one else to talk to about her life. The last thing I want is to feel like she's a client. I listen to people all day long, and this feels remarkably similar. I really do need to cut ties with her.

A group of six or seven teens enter the pizza parlor, and my mouth hangs open when I notice a familiar face in the crowd. Of all the places I could've picked to eat tonight, _this_ has to be the one where Piper is apparently on a date? She's laughing at something the girl next to her is saying, but she doesn't spot me yet. The girl rubs Piper's back as they approach the counter, and I flex my jaw, wondering if that's Zelda.

Sylvie follows my line of sight. "Do you know those kids?"

Fuck. "Uh, yeah, kind of." I lower my head, hoping Piper doesn't recognize me.

"_Alex_?" I recognize the sound of her voice before looking up to confirm that my teenage client is two feet away.

I pretend that I didn't notice when she walked in. "Piper, hi." I smile, but I know it's weak. "Having an early dinner?" I chastise myself for such a lame comment—_you stupid shit_.

"It's almost eight o'clock." She glances at her watch. "So I'm having dinner, but it's not early."

The redhead who was rubbing Piper's back a minute ago approaches our table. "You two know each other?"

"Alex is my therapist," Piper announces unabashedly. "You know, for the whole getting caught with pot and vodka thing?"

"Oh, right." The girl sticks her hand out. "Hi, I'm Zelda."

I shake her cold, fish-like hand. "Alex."

Piper turns to Sylvie. "And who is this?"

"I'm Sylvie." She shakes both girls' hands. "Nice to meet you."

"It's a good night for a date," Piper cunningly observes.

"It sure is," Sylvie replies, unknowingly giving us away.

I briefly close my eyes and tighten my jaw. Piper is too fucking clever to have let a moment pass when she had the potential to determine if I'm gay.

The ding of a bell is followed by, "Order up for Alex."

I push my chair back, thankful for the distraction, and then eye Piper. "See you next week."

The smirk on Piper's face is annoying as hell. "See you then."

Now she knows I date women. The last thing I needed was for her to have a glimpse into my personal life. If she puts two and two together, which of course she's going to do, she'll realize why I've acted so strange when it comes to our conversations about relationships. I know she senses how uncomfortable I get when she brings up her sexuality, and now she might think I have a _thing_ for her. It's not true though—I _can't_ have a thing for her—but she might suspect it.

I grab our slices of pizza and all but shove mine down my throat while Sylvie takes her time and tells me about her own experience with therapy when she was in high school. I'm disinterested in anything that comes out of her mouth. My mind is fixated on Piper and her newfound knowledge that will likely be damning for me. I also don't appreciate that the redhead has her hand at the small of Piper's back as they place their order at the counter.

"Tonight's not going to work out." I push my paper plate away. "I'm sorry."

"What? Why?"

I ball the napkin into my fist. "I'm not feeling great."

She touches my arm. "Is there something I can do?"

I pull away, shaking my head. "I'm going to head home."

"I'm not even finished eating."

I throw my plate away and stack my plastic cup with the rest of the dirty ones. I glance at Piper over my shoulder one more time before heading out the door.

_This is stupid._ I'm a trained counselor; I know what I'm feeling though I'm trying like hell to deny it.

"Alex!"

I don't have to turn around to know she's followed me into the parking lot.

I reach for my keys. "I have to go."

She catches up to me. "Why?"

I shove the key into the lock and open the car door, still not looking at her. "I'm not feeling well."

"You seemed fine a minute ago," she says, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "This doesn't have to be awkward."

Finally, I blink at her, staring at her perfect, infuriating mouth.

"I knew, I mean I _suspected_, you liked women the first time we met," Piper states. "You don't have to be all weird about it."

"I'm not being weird about it," I lie in a high-pitched voice that I hardly recognize as my own.

"Then why'd you leave the restaurant in such a hurry?" she asks. "And leave your girlfriend behind?"

"She's not my—" I pause, gazing into the distance. No matter what I say, Piper will surely see right through me. "My personal life should not be a factor in our professional relationship."

Her forehead crinkles. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm gay!" I shout with outstretched arms. "I'm a proud, fucking lesbian, but that's none of your business!"

She shakes her head. "Why is this even a thing?"

"You're going through some sexual identity stuff, Piper. I get it." I shrug. "As a counselor, it's not my job to empathize with you."

She gets defensive. "I never asked you to empathize."

"Yet, that's what I find myself doing," I admit. "And I can't."

"You mean you _won't_," she says. "I thought if you were, in fact _gay_, you'd be able to give me better advice about my struggle with my own sexuality than a straight person could."

Is that what this is about—me giving her advice from one lesbian to another? There's no way I misread the signals—Piper has a crush on me and isn't admitting it. If that's the case, I'd prefer not knowing anyway.

"I've mentioned this several times." I look her square in the eye. "Relationships and sexuality aren't my specialty. I work with people struggling with addiction, not people struggling with their sexual identity."

"I want to know what it was like when you were growing up," she persists with a sad and worried look on her face. "Tell me I'm not alone in this."

_Fuck_ if she doesn't know how to push my buttons. I touch her sleeve and say earnestly, "You're not alone, Piper."

She stubs a rock with her toe, keeping her head bowed. "It feels like I am."

"It's probably a good idea to talk this out with someone." I take a step back—I can't be this close to her. "But it can't be me."

"Why not?" Before I'm able to provide the multitude of reasons, she continues. "I'm not asking you to repeat the reasons you've already listed. I'm asking you to be the person I confide in about what's going on inside of me. I don't care if it's not your specialty. I'm comfortable with you."

"I'm glad you're comfortable with me." Once again, I look away and wish I was in the car that's speeding by instead of facing Piper right now. "I wish I could help, but I can't. Please understand that."

It looks like she might cry, but I can't let this go on any longer. "There's really no point in your meeting with me two more times," I say, opening my car door fully. "You don't have a substance abuse problem, so maybe it's best if you skip the last sessions."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." I punctuate my statement with raised eyebrows.

"My dad works in the building and brings me to therapy every week." She folds her arms. "There's no way I can ditch."

I lift my shoulders. "Then I'll find someone else to meet with you."

"Why are you making this so—"

"Stop." I hold up my hand. "The discussion is over, Piper." I get into my car and slam the door, quickly starting the ignition. I glance at her one last time, noticing the way her hair frames her face before driving away.

The only way for me to get through this thing unscathed is to not see her. I have to devise a plan to make that happen.

* * *

Although I'm still four days away from my 18th birthday, I'm not stupid. I know Alex has thoughts about me. I'm not so presumptuous to think they're sexual in nature, but she doesn't see me like a regular client or a typical teenager. I think she _tries_, but I don't think she's successful, which is why she won't talk about my sexuality.

As I watch her drive away, I feel a pang in my chest that she couldn't tell me the truth about her sexuality weeks ago, and that she doesn't want to see me even as my therapist. I _get_ it, but I don't like it. It wouldn't make matters any better by confessing my attraction to her, but I wonder if she senses it. She _must_.

"What are you doing out here?" Zelda asks as she walks down the sidewalk. "Your pizza is getting cold."

I give her my best smile. "Sorry."

She takes my hand and leads me back to the restaurant, and I don't protest.

I'm determined not to think about Alex while I chomp on a slice of pepperoni, but I can't help it. _She's gay_. Confirming my suspicions about her sexuality gets me excited in ways that it probably shouldn't—it's not like we can magically be together. Zelda puts her hand on my leg at one point, and I smile at her, but I don't cover it with my own. I admit that while I want to know what it feels like to kiss a girl, I don't want it to be Zelda.

That realization hits me square in the chest and my breath hitches. "I have to go."

"What's wrong?" she asks.

I stand. "I'm sorry, Zelda. Maybe we can get together again soon." I grab my purse and all but sprint back to my house.

"This is the first weekend you haven't been grounded in two months and you're back before nine o'clock?" my dad asks, lowering the newspaper. "What's going on?"

"I don't feel well." I go into the kitchen and pour a glass of water.

"Do you have a fever?" my mom asks.

"It's my time of the month." It's not, but that'll shut them up.

"Try a heating pad, dear," my mom says. "Or a warm bath."

I refill my glass of water, and then go to my bedroom.

I consider texting Alex, but what would I say? _I like you_? I huff at myself for such juvenile thinking. If I so much as mention that I have budding feelings for her, she'll cut me loose so fast it'll make my head spin. There's nothing I can do that will make me happy.

I crawl into bed, pulling the covers high over my chest and try to go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I'll have a fresh perspective.

* * *

I've come to the decision that I can't consult with Piper any longer. Things have gotten too personal, and it would be uncomfortable for both of us if I continued seeing her professionally, and of course, personally. The next morning, I'm determined to let my supervisor know.

At 8 a.m., I review my notes with him, and when I get to Piper, I take a deep breath.

I stare at my legal pad. "There's nothing else I can do for Piper Chapman."

"What do you mean?"

I shuffle some papers in her folder, avoiding eye contact. "Like I've said since our first session, she doesn't have an alcohol or drug problem. It's ridiculous to make her come to the final two sessions."

"That might be the case, but it's not our decision to make," he states.

I close the folder and link my hands on top of it. "I'd rather not meet with her."

"Did something happen?"

"There's literally nothing else we can talk about." Finally, I meet his eye. "And I'd rather not have her sit in my office for an hour, just watching the clock." Piper never watches the clock, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Give her a substance abuse book to read." He stands and heads for the door. "She can't duck out on these last two appointments. Sorry, Alex."

Before he opens the door, I say, "Then can someone else meet with her?"

"Why?"

"I can't. I just…" I shake my head.

He takes a few steps towards me, lowering his eyeglasses. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing," I blurt out. "I just don't like boring sessions is all."

"Not all clients will have riveting stories, Alex. You know that." He puts his glasses back into place. "Good luck."

Well, _fuck_. It's not like I can tell my supervisor that Piper makes me uncomfortable. Uttering that phrase would lead to a string of questions I'd rather not answer aloud _or_ to myself.

The receptionist peeks inside the door. "Your next client is here."

"I'll be there in a minute," I sigh.

I go through that day and the following few days with my mind focused on work. I have two new clients that require me to do a little extra research, which keeps me pleasantly occupied. I continue avoiding Sylvie's calls and texts, but she's the least of my worries.

Tomorrow, I meet with Piper again and need to come up with a plan to not talk about her love life or my personal life, so that night I hole myself up in my bedroom and search the Internet for things to do with clients when you feel their time has expired. Not a whole lot of information out there on the topic.

After a quick knock, Nicky pokes her head into my room. "You feel like taking a break?"

I shut my laptop as if I was caught doing something wrong. "I still have a few notes to finish."

Ignoring my statement, she steps inside. "I've been meaning to ask, how's it going with the teenager?"

My eyes widen and I quickly adjust my glasses if for no other reason than to give my nervous hands something to do. "Two more sessions, then I'm done."

"Has anything happened since we talked?"

"No," I say at first. "Well, maybe…kind of," I sigh, wondering, not for the first time, how much I should divulge. "I ran into her on Saturday when I was out with Sylvie."

She sits on the corner of my bed. "And?"

"It was awkward." I move my laptop to the side. "Piper didn't know I'm gay until she found out I was on a date. She said she suspected it, but still. I don't typically share my sexuality with clients."

"You've said it yourself, she's not your typical client."

"Yet she has to be," I reply. "She's struggling with her own sexuality, which makes this more complicated."

"As you're so fond of reminding me, you don't do relationship counseling."

"I told her that." I shrug. "She's stubborn."

Nicky taps my foot. "You've always had a thing for the stubborn ones."

I bite my inner lip as I think about how steadfast and stubborn Piper is. "I just need to get through these last two sessions."

"Good luck." She stands. "I brought some chicken tikka masala home if you're hungry."

I give her a small smile. "Thanks."

After a little more research, I decide to join Nicky for Indian food, and then call it a night.

* * *

Fortunately, my days are so busy that I hardly have time to prep between meetings, and with one of our counselors on maternity leave, I get a measly 15-minute lunch break. Before I know it, the clock strikes four. I straighten my skirt and proceed to the lobby to get Piper for our second to last session.

"Hey."

"Hi." She follows me down the hallway. "Congratulations are in order."

It's easy to keep my composure when we talk about everyday sort of stuff. "For what?"

"One, I officially graduated from high school," she says. "And two, I turned 18 yesterday."

I guess that means she's officially an adult. Interesting. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." She sets her bag down. "Both feel like huge rites of passage."

"They are." It's rare for me to sit behind my desk at the beginning of a session, but my plan is to create a physical boundary between us. I keep the conversation light. "Any fun summer plans?"

"Not really." She takes her place on the sofa. "My friend, Polly, and I might head to the coast for a few days, but I'm mostly going to be working at my dad's office to make some money before I start college."

"Your dad's office?"

She nods.

"In this building?"

Piper tilts her head, and once again, I know she's no fool. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not." I let out a pathetic laugh. "Why would it be? I'm glad you're able to earn some money."

She moves to the window, opening the curtains just a bit. "Do you ever wonder what you would've done if you hadn't decided to become a therapist?"

Piper's brain moves from one topic to another very quickly; it's like she's always two steps ahead. I imagine she could out-think almost every kid her age and more than a few adults.

"Sometimes," I reply cautiously.

She continues gazing out the window. "I wonder what I'll do in the future."

"Have you chosen a college major?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I enjoy reading and writing, so possibly English, but I'm also drawn to psychology."

"I think you'd be an excellent psychologist." Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

She turns to me. "What makes you say that?"

"It seems like you're able to read people well," I keep my tone casual. "You also strike me as a good listener."

"Thank you." She approaches my desk, bare thighs touching the edge. "Maybe one day you'll be my supervisor."

_No fucking way_.

"Yeah, maybe," I respond, having to look away. "But you'll have to get your bachelor's degree first."

"True." She returns to the sofa, and I curse myself for admiring the way she fills out her little red shorts. "Is Sylvie your girlfriend?"

Although I probably shouldn't be, I'm shocked at her change of subject. "You know I won't answer that."

"Why not?" She shrugs. "You told me you're a lesbian."

I should not engage with her, but I find my mouth moving on its own accord. "That doesn't mean I have a girlfriend."

"So, she's not?"

I look away before deciding to respond honestly. "No, she's not."

"I didn't think so."

My eyes return to Piper's, and I notice not for the first time that they're aqua. "What made you think we weren't a couple?"

"I don't know…she just seemed a little too eager or something."

"Eager?" I chuckle at her word choice.

"Yeah," she replies. "You don't strike me as someone who is attracted to a person as enthusiastic or as _eager_ as she was."

I fiddle with a ballpoint pen. "I don't know how you'd sense that from our brief time together."

"Like you said." She grins. "I'm pretty good at reading people."

I click the pen and write gibberish on my legal pad. _No one_ has been able to read me like Piper. It's frustrating as hell.

"Nothing happened with Zelda by the way," she says out of the blue. "She's not who I want to share my first girl kiss with."

If I was focused on her eyes before, it's her lips that fixate me now. "I'm sure you'll find someone when the time is right."

"That's just it—I don't know if the time will ever be right."

The mere thought of _kissing her_ sends shivers throughout my body. I ball my hands into fists under the desk. "Be patient with yourself."

"I'll try. It's just getting more and more difficult."

I continue staring at her, and despite every neuron in my brain telling me it's good that she's no longer standing right in front of me, I wish she was closer. But I _can't_ want that, so I look away and wish the floor could swallow me right up. I can't stay in this room with her much longer.

I recall my conversation with my supervisor and stand to pull a paperback from my bookshelf. "I know we only have one session after this, so I need to give you a book about substance abuse."

"You're giving it to me now? Why didn't you give it to me at our first session?"

I hand it to her without addressing her questions. "You'll have one more test that's a little more detailed than the stuff on your previous quizzes."

Piper turns it over in her hands. "And I have to read a book to pass it?"

"Yes." I return to my seat. "Why don't you start now?"

"Our time isn't up," she replies, looking at the clock on the wall.

"I'm sure you'll be busy doing post-graduation stuff for the next week," I try. "So you can start now and finish reading it at the beginning of our next session."

"You're asking me to do this so we don't have to talk," she astutely observes. "I might be young, Alex, but I'm not stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid." I lock eyes with her. "Which is why you'll read this book for our remaining time together."

She doesn't back away from my stare, so I'm the one who's forced to look away as if she'll burn a hole right through me.

One of us needs to leave this room, and it doesn't look like Piper is going to budge.

"Excuse me, I have to…" I walk to the door. "I'll be right back."

"Just in time to say goodbye," Piper notes.

I make a beeline to the restroom and lock the door behind me. I put my hands on the sink and hang my head. I try taking long, slow breaths. I won't let a teenager get the best of me, but my God she's making it difficult. This is stupid—why am I attracted to a _kid_? How in the fuck does she have such an effect on me? I may be the one who needs counseling.

After composing myself, I return to my office five minutes later to find Piper sprawled on my sofa with the substance abuse book in her face and toned legs crossed at the ankles. I can picture her in my living room doing the same thing. I clear my throat.

She lowers the book.

"Fascinating stuff?"

She grins as if she's completely unaffected by all this. "Totally."

"I won't give you a quiz today—just the one next week, and then we're done."

She sits up. "I don't know if that makes me happy or sad."

I stand next to my desk, fingertips of my left hand balanced on the surface. "I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do with this hour now that I won't occupy your time."

"You'll occupy my time," she says with confidence. "Just in a different way."

Heat rushes to my face and I try to keep my expression neutral, but I can feel my lips twitch. "We only have ten minutes left; I'm going to let you go a little early."

"Fine." Piper shoves the book into her bag. "See you next week."

I raise my hand in a small wave. "Bye."


	6. Chapter 6

After my second to last session with Alex, I text Polly to see if I can go to her house to talk. She's been sick for the past few days, but I've gotten to the point where if I don't talk about my feelings, my head will explode.

I enter her bedroom and shut the door. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks," she says from her position in bed. "I just woke up from a nap."

"I got you a banana-pineapple smoothie." I hand her the drink.

"My favorite." She smiles. "Thanks."

I tuck my hand in my pocket and take a deep breath. "I need to talk something out with you, but I don't want you to judge me."

"You know that now, no matter what you say, I'm definitely going to judge you," she replies with a sly grin.

I don't bother protesting. "I have a massive crush on someone."

She sits up more fully in bed. "Zelda?"

"No." I give her a disgusted look.

"Then who? Are you getting back with Larry?" She swings her legs over the mattress. "I'd love to go on double dates like we used to."

I shake my head. "It's not him either."

"Is it someone I know?"

"No." I blink a couple of times before admitting, "It's my therapist."

"Your therapist?"

I nod. "Alex."

She looks perplexed. "Isn't she like in her 30s?"

"She's 29." I sit on the bench at the base of her bed. "Our age difference is insignificant."

Polly gets to her feet. "Uh, I think the whole world would disagree."

"I just turned 18." I shrug. "So, technically, it would be legal for us to be a couple."

"If we're talking about _technicalities_, yeah, but…eww." She makes a disapproving face. "That's like a 12 year age difference."

"Eleven, but I'm not counting."

She moves the box of Kleenex and sits next to me. "I know you've had this thing about wanting to kiss a girl, Pipes, but this is probably not the best way to go about it."

"She's definitely not a _girl_." I make air quotes around the word. "I'm too mature to date people our age. They don't get me the way she does."

"She's paid to 'get' you," Polly notes, placing her hand on top of mine. "Don't confuse Alex's interest in you for her doing her job."

I shake my head. "I'm not confusing anything."

Polly's eyebrows climb. "You think she's interested in you in a _romantic_ way?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "Sometimes I wonder if she might be; other times I don't think so at all. She kind of gets uncomfortable when I talk about my relationships or sexuality stuff. And sometimes I catch her looking at me in a way that makes me suspicious."

"That's kind of sketchy, Pipes."

"It's not." I stand. "She's not a skeevy, lascivious woman. If I had to guess, I'd say she's struggling with her attraction to me, because just like you, she thinks it's bad or wrong or something."

"That's because it _is_ all those things."

"It's not _wrong_," I protest.

"I know you'll claim not to care about public perception, but it's not going to look good for you to be dating a woman that much older than you," Polly states. "It'll look even worse for her."

I move in front of the window and watch the breeze catch a branch on a big oak tree. It looks like a storm is coming.

I feel Polly's hand on my shoulder. "You know that, right?"

I turn in her arms. It doesn't bring tears to my eyes, but I ache at not being able to explore a relationship with Alex. I acknowledge inwardly that I'm jumping the gun—I'm not completely convinced she has feelings for me—but I don't know which would be worse, that she has feelings for me and won't act on them or that she doesn't have feelings for me at all.

I pull back. "I didn't realize how badly I needed a hug."

She squeezes my hand. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing for now." I lift my shoulders. "We have one more counseling session, so I guess I'll see how that goes."

"Well…" Her lips tic up. "We'll be in college in two months where there will be a whole world of new people to crush on. Don't let this one get you down."

"You're probably right." I grab my bag. "I better go. I have to be home by dinnertime."

"Dad still has you on a tight leash?"

"Yes, and it's driving me crazy." I turn the doorknob. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Pol. I'll call later."

With that, I go home with muddled thoughts about Alex. Polly is right, this would look bad for me but worse for her. Alex can't be seen around town, holding hands with a teenager. What would that do for her professionally? There's no good outcome that I can foresee if I confess how I feel about her. Maybe after our last session, time will march on, I'll go to Smith, and I'll simply remember Alex as my first girl crush.

* * *

The following Monday, I start my job at my dad's office. It's boring as fuck, but I'm getting paid well to make copies, file folders, and answer the phone when the receptionist is on breaks. I don't venture up to the fifth floor where Alex works, but I think about her often. She's two floors above me—who's she meeting with? Are they my age? Younger, older? Do they get to talk about their sexuality with her?

It isn't until Thursday when I run into her in the building's lobby. I can see her reflection in the elevator doors before turning around to identify her. Just as I do, she spins around and walks the other way.

"Alex?"

"Piper, hi." She nudges her glasses. "I was going to take the elevator, but the stairs are better for me. You know, exercise and all."

I'm feeling particularly bold at 8 a.m. "It had nothing to do with the fact that you didn't want to ride in the elevator with me?"

"What?" she snickers. "Of course not."

"Then I'll take the stairs with you."

She issues a smile that I figure she's trying very hard to make seem genuine. "Great."

"What are you doing in the building?" she asks as we get to the second floor landing.

"I started working for my dad on Monday."

She jogs up a few more steps. "Oh, right. How's it going?"

"Boring, but fine."

Alex grins. "Lots of filing papers and taking orders from bossy, middle-aged women?"

"That's about the size of it." I stop on the third floor and point at the door. "This is me."

She looks up at the staircase a little out of breath. "I've got two more floors."

"I'll see you later today."

"Right. Last session."

I nod. "Bye for now."

I enter the hallway and leave a panting Alex behind.

* * *

The day goes much like it did on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, but unlike those days, I'm nervous about seeing Alex for the final time. Maybe I should be glad about our counseling relationship ending. If anything were to ever happen between us, it certainly couldn't occur while I'm under her care.

I've been thinking a lot about what attracts me to her, and besides her physical attributes, which I could go on ad nauseum about, it's her overall demeanor. Alex carries herself with graceful confidence as if nothing can make her flinch (well, except for the other night when her date gave away the fact that she's gay). She's smart, professional and has a good sense of humor. I like that she's not afraid to use curse words in front of me while still maintaining her clinical posture. There's not a single flaw I can find, which in some ways, upsets me, because I'll measure all other people I date up to her. They won't stand a chance.

Just before 4 p.m., I take the stairs two floors up and wait in the lobby for the last time. Five minutes later, Alex appears in the doorway.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Did you bring that book I gave you last week?"

"Right here." I hold it up while admiring her long, lean legs for the final time as we walk down the hallway.

"Was it riveting?" She steps aside, allowing me to enter her office.

"I didn't read any more than what I read in your office last week, so…"

She shuts the door. "I'm sure you'll finish it up in no time."

I toss the book on the sofa. "That's really what you want me to do—read this stupid book for the next hour?"

"It's not stupid," Alex replies stiffly. "And yes."

"Why can't we talk?" I protest.

"There's really nothing more to talk about." She tucks her hair behind her ear and doesn't meet my eye. "I wish the court would've made you come to two or three sessions, not eight."

"I thought we were getting along," I say. "I like talking to you."

"I like talking to you, too." It almost sounds apologetic.

I step close enough to smell a hint of vanilla and leather. I'd like to drown in her scent. "If we like talking to each other, I don't see the problem."

"The problem is that you're still figuring out your sexuality, and you know I'm gay." Her face twitches. "You want to ask questions about my lifestyle that I can't answer."

"Because you're my therapist," I state.

She sets her mouth in a firm line. "Exactly."

"In an hour, we'll both sign a form that says I've completed my court ordered penance or whatever you want to call it," I begin. "After that, I won't be under your care."

She folds her arms across her chest as if they'll form a physical barrier. "I'm still not going to talk to you about my personal life."

"Why not?"

"Because you're 17!" She spits out like it's been bottled up in her jumbled mind for weeks.

"18," I correct.

"17, 18 whatever!" Alex continues in a fiery tone. "You're barely an adult, Piper. I am not going to have intimate conversations with you!"

"Who said anything about _intimate_?" I had no intention of arguing with Alex during our last session. I have no idea what's come over me.

"You know what I mean," she sighs. "This isn't going to happen."

My heart is beating so hard that it's pulsating in my ears. "This?"

She motions a finger between the two of us. "You, me…this."

I step the rest of the way towards her and gently place my hand on her arm without letting my gaze waver. Alex clenches her jaw and looks away, but she doesn't move. Something in my chest comes undone, and I desperately need to feel her lips against mine. I know I shouldn't take this any further, but my actions betray my conscience. I stand on my tip toes and softly kiss the corner of her mouth.

"_Piper_," she whispers like a warning.

I place my other hand on her cheek, turning her head until she looks at me. She leans into my touch and closes her eyes, and I crane my neck to kiss her again. Her mouth open hesitantly, and then I angle my head and apply a little more pressure. Alex's hand cradles the back of my head and pulls me closer. Her lips are pillowy soft, and I'm fucking _lost_. Every nerve in my body springs to life.

Three seconds later, she wraps her fingers around my wrist. "Stop." She steps away, the back of her hand swiping across her mouth as if she can erase what just happened. "We can't do this."

"You're going to look me in the eye and tell me you don't want this?" My voice trembles.

She shakes her head. "_We cannot do this_!"

"Why not?" I shout.

"You're a smart girl." She pinches the skin between her eyebrows, and it's clear Alex thinks she's made colossal mistake. "Figure it out."

"Is this because of our age?"

"That's the primary reason, yes." She practically sprints behind her desk and sits down with a huff as if this is a game of hide and seek and she's reached base. A hint of sadness registers in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Piper."

My chest heaves up and down, and I can't be in this office with her. I storm out, not exactly sure where I'm headed, but I have to get out of that space. I go into the first room I find with an open door, which seems to be a break room.

"Is something wrong, dear?" a woman asks.

"Where's the bathroom?"

She points. "Second door on your left."

I walk down the hallway to the bathroom and slam the door shut, thankful that it's a single stall. I sit on the toilet and cry. _Shit, shit, shit, shit_. How did I allow myself to slip like this? I wish I could've left well enough alone. I was—I _am_—drawn to her. I know it's foolish to think we could be together, but can't we at least hang out to see if we like each other in a more-than-friends way? Or is that not how adults do things? I'm furious with myself. I need to pull it together and go back in there with a level of maturity that Alex would expect from a grownup. If she sees me crying, she'll probably think I'm even more of a child than I am.

I splash water on my face, then dry it with paper towels that feel like sandpaper against my skin. I run my fingers through my hair to make it look a little more presentable, and then head back to her office.

I open the door, but she's not there. "Alex?"

There's a note on the sofa, so I pick it up. _Take this test. Leave it on my desk when you're finished._

_That's_ how she's ending things? I fight back a fresh set of tears and pace in the small office. I wait five minutes, but Alex doesn't return. I pull a pencil out of the holder on her desk and take the quiz without bothering to finish the book. _It's all so stupid_.

Ten minutes later, someone knocks on the door.

My pulse quickens. "Alex?"

The receptionist pokes her head in. "I'm sorry, but Ms. Vause was called away for an emergency. She said to make sure you took the quiz before you left."

I huff and hand her the paper. "Here."

"She signed this release form." The receptionist hands me a clipboard. "Now, all we need is your signature and you're free to leave."

I scribble my name, grab my bag and hurry past her without another word. Fuck this whole thing.

* * *

I have to get out of here. I can't recall ever hyperventilating in my life, but this is the closest I've come, and I almost wish I had a paper bag to hold over my mouth like they do in the movies. I scribble a note to Piper, placing it on top of the alcohol and drug quiz on the sofa. Maybe I should check on her, but I can't bear to see her right now. Besides, I don't trust myself to be alone with her, and that's a shitty, unprofessional feeling.

I storm into the waiting area, purse dangling on my arm. "I have an emergency," I announce to our receptionist. "Will you make sure Piper turns in her final test and signs this form?" I pull the clipboard from under my arm. "Can I borrow a pen?"

She hands me one. "Is everything alright?"

I scrawl my name on the therapist's signature line. "I'll be in touch soon."

"Should I reschedule your clients for tomorrow?"

I pause at the door and recompose myself as best as I can. "I'll be back by then. Please tell Dr. Eckstein I'm sorry for rushing out."

I press the button for the elevator at least ten times, hoping Piper doesn't come out of the office in the next few minutes. _Come on, come on_…I whisper. Finally, I step into the elevator, which makes a stop on the third floor.

A man smiles as he steps inside. "Alex, right?"

"I'm Bill Chapman, Piper's father," he greets me with a warm smile. "She's had nothing but positive things to say about you. I think your sessions have been good for her."

I think I'm going to vomit. "Great," I manage to squeak out.

He touches my arm. "Are you ok? You seem a bit pale."

"I'm not feeling well. Sorry." I keep my eyes on the ground and agonizingly wait for the elevator to reach the first floor. Of all the people I could've run into, why does it have to be Piper's fucking father?

The doors open, and I bolt out, not bothering to mention it was nice meeting him or that his daughter almost ruined my career minutes ago. I jog to my car and fumble with the keys. They fall to the ground, and I pick them up with shaky hands, finally opening the door and letting my forehead rest on the steering wheel. I was able to get out of the building—right now, that's all that matters.

_What the fuck happened back there?_ After Piper kissed me, I saw hurt and borderline mortification imprinted on her face. I think she was just as surprised as I was that she went through with it. I shouldn't have fed into the kiss for even a second, yet I couldn't step away. Although I've only known her for eight weeks, I've never seen Piper look so intense. Her blue eyes were like laser beams that I couldn't escape, and when she touched me, I was too stunned to move. I've never been under anyone's spell like that.

I drive home in a daze, thankful that Nicky's car isn't there. I don't want to discuss this with her. I'd love to discuss it with a therapist, but I don't think any of my colleagues would look favorably on me in this situation.

As soon as I get inside, I open my laptop and find the e-mail my clinical supervisor sent me with a link to the national substitute therapist position. I click the link and begin filling out the application. If I get the position, I'll take it as a sign that I need to get the fuck out of Darien. I realize Piper will move to Northampton in two months, but this is her home, and I'm sure she'll be back for breaks. I don't want to be anywhere near her…_I can't_.

* * *

The next two weeks, I'm a wreck. My parents wonder what's wrong with me, but I don't divulge my secret. I go to work, careful to avoid times when I think Alex will come and go, and I spend my evenings either at home or at Polly's house. I don't return to The Roasted Bean for so much as a muffin for fear of running into Alex. My relationship with her was too short-lived both professionally and personally to say she broke my heart, but that's how it feels. I felt a connection to her like no one I've ever met, but it's clear she doesn't want to explore where this could go.

I understand that we're in different phases of our lives, but why should that matter? I'm mature enough to handle a relationship with an older woman. I realize some people would find it odd, but I don't care what other people think. I want to be with Alex, and the likelihood of that happening at this point is zero.

I take the week of the Fourth of July off and spend it with Polly and some friends at the beach. I haven't told her about the kiss and have no intention of doing so any time soon. It's nice to be away from Darien for that week where I have no fear of running into Alex. However, when I return, it's all I can think about. I even play it out in my head if I were to run into her, but no matter how prepared I am for a chance encounter, it probably won't turn out the way I'd like.

The first week of August, I see her from a window on the third floor, and my heart skips a beat. She's walking out of the building with two women, laughing and gesticulating as she speaks. I press my hand against the glass as if I could touch her. My heart sinks as she turns the corner, disappearing in plain sight.

Two days later, I see her again as I wait for my dad in the cubby under the stairs in the building's lobby. She looks stunning in a pair of fitted blue pants and a starched blouse. Her heels make her taller than the man with whom she's walking. Her hair bounces as she leaves the building all smiles. For a moment, I consider stopping her just so I can look at her flawless face again. Before I decide whether or not that's a good idea, she's gone.

I wonder if Alex has forgotten about me. I highly doubt she'd forget our kiss, but I could see her chalking that up to a curious teenager who wanted to see what it felt like to kiss a girl. Perhaps she's filed it away as a fleeting moment that satisfied my inquisitiveness. She couldn't be any more wrong. I know I'll eventually shake this, but right now, it seems impossible.

On August 15, a week before I leave for college, I step into the elevator just past five o'clock, and my eyes widen when I see her.

"Alex?"

She lowers a stack of boxes that tower over her head. "Hey."

My pulse quickens at the sound of her husky voice. "Do you need some help?"

"If you could take this top one..."

I take a small but heavy box. "What is all this?"

"I finished my clinical hours," she states. "Actually, I ended up working an extra week to help my colleagues out."

I swallow hard, wondering what this means for her. "Congratulations."

The elevator opens on the bottom floor, and Alex steps out. "I can take it from here."

"I don't mind bringing it wherever you're going," I say, desperate to be in her company for even a minute longer.

She pushes the door open with her knee, then holds it with her back to let me walk ahead of her. "I appreciate it."

We walk to the parking lot in silence, and I wonder if her brain is whirling as fast as mine. I've been able to avoid her all summer, and now on what appears to be her last day at the clinic, I bump smack into her. What are the odds?

"This is me." She stops at a silver Jetta and places the three boxes on the hood. "I'll take that one."

I hand her the smaller box. "Does this mean you decided against taking the job here?"

"Yeah." She opens the trunk. "I got a job where I'll cover extended leaves of absence all over the country. I leave for Ohio in two days. Can't say I'm looking forward to three months in Akron, but it'll be a nice change of scenery."

"That's great." I give her the best smile I can muster, which isn't much.

She stacks the boxes in the trunk. "I'm excited to explore parts of the country I've never seen, which is pretty much anything west of Pittsburgh and south of DC."

My heart is in the pit of my stomach at the prospect of never seeing her again. "Sounds exciting."

"When do you leave for college?"

I shove my hands into my pockets. "In exactly one week."

She closes the trunk. "Are you ready?"

"I guess so." I shrug. "I'm kind of done with this town, so…"

"I know the feeling." Alex stands in front of me, keys dangling in her hand. "I hope you have a great college experience, Piper."

I stare at the pavement. "Thank you."

She places two fingers under my chin until our eyes lock. "Don't break too many hearts."

"I wouldn't dare," I reply. "I'm all too familiar with how that feels."

She gives me a dull smile. "Good luck, kid."

With that, she hops into her car and starts the engine, leaving me there with an aching heart. I knew seeing Alex again would only lead to disappointment, and I was right, only I didn't know it could hurt this bad.

* * *

Author's Note: Some of you like when I write author's notes, so I thought I'd share what went through my head during Alex and Piper's first kiss. I wrote that scene a couple months ago, and at first, I had Piper initiate contact, but Alex stopped her before they kissed. I let that sit for a few weeks, reread it, and then went back and added the kiss. I've reread that scene like 10 times, and I'm confident in my decision to have them kiss in that scenario. (This is also why I don't post stories until I've completed them—I always go back and tweak things after multiple rereads. Sometimes those edited scenes have a drastic effect on the arc of the story.) I also contemplated writing a sex scene immediately following the kiss, but that didn't feel right because of their counselor/client relationship as well as their age difference. I stand by that decision, too. But here's the thing: I believe Alex and Piper's chemistry is so strong and their attraction is so great that the first time they'd kiss would lead to sex. I just couldn't justify writing it in this story. Thank you to everyone who has left a review!


	7. Chapter 7

Part of me feels guilty for leaving Piper like this. Earlier this summer, she was convinced we had a connection, and I put an end to that and never looked back. I'm sure she thinks I don't have feelings for her, but she's wrong—I _can't_ have feelings for her. Maybe if our paths cross again, I'll let her know that she affected me greatly even at the ripe age of 17.

I wonder what she'll end up doing with her life. No doubt, it'll be something meaningful that requires her to think critically. She's a terrific communicator. Maybe she'll be a college professor or a journalist. I remember her saying how much she liked writing. She also mentioned an affinity for politics, so perhaps she'll serve in some governmental capacity. I wouldn't put it past her to be elected as a Senator or even the fucking President of the United States.

I wonder if she'll change her look—cut her hair, adjust her style, put on a little more weight. Not that Piper is scrawny by any means, but she's still young; her body isn't finished maturing. I also wonder how long it'll be before she dates women in college. She didn't want to define herself as a lesbian a few weeks ago, but I'm curious if that'll change at an all-women's college where it's perfectly acceptable to be gay or bi or anything else perceived as _other_. College will be good for her—she's too big for Darien and small town thoughts.

I wonder if she'll think of me when she shares her first kiss with a girl. I don't want that to be the case—I want her to experience the satisfaction of someone wanting to kiss her. Not that I didn't want it; I did, but not in the circumstances that we found ourselves in. If someone would've walked into my office, that could've been the end of my career. Piper might've been grounded for life. Nothing good came from that kiss, and in some ways, it makes me sad for her because that's not what first kisses should feel like.

I allow myself a moment to imagine what kissing her in the right situation might be like. Her lips are thinner than mine. What would they feel like as they skimmed my thick, lower lip? Would she want to take control, or would she allow me to lead? I imagine the low moan she'd make when my tongue flicked her lips, begging for entrance. I blink back the images that surface. No more thinking about kissing Piper; it's time to move on.

* * *

Akron is _not_ a charming city. While there's little culture or nightlife to intrigue me, the job is enjoyable. I'm exposed to more than just substance abuse counseling, and that's more refreshing than I thought it would be. It's also nice being in a place where no one knows me, and I can create a new life wherever I go. That remains true when I do a six-week stint in both Tallahassee and Omaha and an eight-week gig in Fort Worth. I don't date much in these cities, though I've hooked up occasionally. It isn't until I take a six-month position in Milwaukee when I go on a string of dates.

The problem is, none of these women interest me enough to go out more than a couple times. There have been only two who I've gone out with three times. The first was a former swimsuit model, so from a physical standpoint, it was fantastic, but she had a pea-sized brain. The other was a physics professor at Marquette University, so our conversations were intellectual, but she hadn't gotten out much. She enjoyed talking about scientific inquiry, and while I can hold my own during most discussions, I could tell she was hoping to connect with someone who shares similar interests.

That reminds me of Piper and her random knowledge. She was a senior when we first met, so I'm sure much of the knowledge she obtained was fresh from high school classes, but I could tell she was a bright young woman who learned more than what her teachers drilled into her. Her vocabulary would be impressive for a 30-year-old, much less a 17-year-old, and the way she connected thoughts and ideas was sophisticated beyond her years. Although there were a few moments when her age was apparent, Piper was far more mature than most people her age.

I figured after a month or two had passed, I'd stop thinking about her, but that has not been the case over the course of the year. It doesn't happen multiple times a day, though there have been some days when that's true, but I _do_ think about her when someone looks like her or if I hear something she might find funny or fascinating. I signed up for the _30 Days, 30 Songs_ program, so every morning when I listen to the song of the day, I can't help but think of her. I've learned to compartmentalize those thoughts and move on with my day without letting them affect me for more than a couple minutes.

One of the perks of this job is that I can take as much time off as I want between gigs. So, by the time summer rolls around, I decide to take a couple weeks off and return to Darien. Fortunately, Nicky has been too lazy to rent my room out, so I have a place to stay during my hiatus.

"Don't expect to get this lucky next time, Vause," she says as we eat dinner together my first night back home. "I'm putting an ad online for your room the day after you leave."

"Because you need the money?" I chuckle.

"No, because I want the company."

I stab a piece of broccoli. "Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed bringing women back here without having to worry about your roommate being home."

"That _has_ been a perk," she replies.

We talk about my life on the road and all the towns I've lived in over the past year. Nicky is more interested in the women I've dated, but I don't share much. There's not much to say about them anyway.

She stacks our plates in the dishwasher. "Hey, you ever think about that teenage client you helped last summer?"

"Piper?" My heart leaps just saying her name aloud for the first time in a year.

"Was she the high school senior?"

"She's in college now." I think about how much independence she must feel living on her own.

"Oh, right," Nicky replies. "So, was that a flash in the pan or do you still think about her?"

I busy myself with drying a pot, trying to act casual. "Occasionally."

"I gotta say, that surprises me," she replies. "You've always been the love 'em and leave 'em type."

"I never _loved_ her." That much is true—I didn't know Piper well enough to love her, but if the circumstances had been different, I wouldn't put falling in love off the table. I certainly _liked_ everything about her in the short amount of time we spent together.

She hands me a beer. "Did anything ever happen between the two of you?"

I could lie and answer with a simple _no_, but I think better of it. "We kissed in my office during her last session," I admit, popping the can open. "Let me rephrase that—she kissed _me_."

Her eyebrows skyrocket. "And you didn't participate?"

"I did out of mere shock for a second or two," (_A mind-blowing, fantastic second or two._) I walk into the living room. "But I ended it quickly."

"So you were right this whole time—she had a thing for you."

I sip my beer. "I guess."

She sits next to me, placing a hand on my knee. "I'm sure she won't be the last woman to have a crush on you, Vause."

I take another long swig. "I'm just hoping I don't run into her while I'm in town."

She taps her bottle against mine. "Same."

"Enough about me," I begin. "Tell me about your conquests over the past year."

She sits back and crosses her legs. "Where should I begin?"

* * *

My first year at Smith was good—no, it was _great_. The first semester was tough as I learned how to fend for myself and manage my time without the pressures of student government, sports, and parental expectations. Although I went into college thinking about Alex often, my thoughts waned and by second semester, I only thought of her a couple times of day or when I saw a tall, dark haired woman from afar.

I dated a guy from Amherst for a few weeks, and after things ended, I hooked up with a girl from Mount Holyoke. Kissing her was nice, but it didn't stir up feelings like my extremely brief kiss with Alex. The challenge with that kiss was that she didn't allow herself to enjoy it. For a split second, she participated, but that moment was gone in the blink of an eye. Still, it's etched in my mind and all other kisses I'll share likely won't hold a candle to how that one made me feel.

I return to my summer job at my dad's office, only this time without the expectation or worry that I'll run into her. For all I know, she's working in California or Colorado—she's definitely not working in Darien. I wish Alex would've wanted to stay in touch—I'd like to know how life is treating her and if she's enjoying the cities she gets to work in for short periods of time. I wouldn't want to hear about her love life, though. If I had it my way, she'd hold out to be with me when I'm old enough to be considered a viable option. I'm not foolish enough to think that'll happen. For all I know, she's in a serious relationship and has never reflected on our time together. It really is time for me to stop allowing her to occupy my thoughts.

Polly and I decide to spend the weekend on the coast, and I'm in charge of grocery shopping. I go to the local supermarket on Friday after work, and as I stroll the cart down the frozen food aisle while glancing at the grocery list, I bump into another cart.

I lift my head. "Sorry, I was…"

"_Piper_?"

"_Alex_?"

"Hey," she says through a smile caught between pleasure and surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping." I swallow the lump in my throat. "You?"

"Same, obviously." She closes the refrigerator door and eyes me up and down. "You look good…happy I mean."

I admire the way she fills out her jeans and a tight t-shirt. She's still the most striking woman I've ever met. "Thanks, you too."

She tosses a bag of frozen peas into her basket. "How was your first year of college?"

"Good, good…" I offer, still a little nervous in her presence. "It took some time to adjust to life on my own, but I love it."

She nudges her glasses. "I'm glad."

"What are you doing back in Darien?" I ask with extreme curiosity.

"I'm on a break between jobs," she responds, one hand on the cart, the other on her hip. "My next assignment is in Baton Rouge."

"Louisiana in the summertime? No thanks."

"Trust me, I'll be in air conditioning as often as possible," she chuckles. "What about you? What are you up to this summer?"

"Working at my dad's office again," I sigh. "Hopefully this will be the last year I'll have to do that. I'm going to get an internship or a job closer to Smith next summer."

"Good."

Another customer rolls a cart down the aisle with two children hanging on to the basket. "Excuse me, I need to grab some frozen vegetables."

"Oh, sorry." I move my cart out of the way and Alex does the same.

She scrunches her lips to the side. "Would you want to maybe catch up somewhere other than the frozen food aisle?"

"Yeah, yes, definitely. When?" I realize my reply is far too eager, but I have trouble dialing my enthusiasm back now that I'm face-to-face with the woman I've dreamt about for a full year.

She shrugs. "Now?"

My heart thumps so loudly I wonder if she can hear it. "I just need to pick up a few more things, and then I can meet you." _Please don't recant_. "Or we can go somewhere now, and I can come back to the store later. Whatever." I will gladly abandon my shopping cart on aisle six to talk with her elsewhere.

"Why don't we finish shopping and meet in the parking lot in a few minutes?" she suggests. "I'm in the silver Jetta—same car as before."

"Ok, great." I race around the store, shoving things into my cart and not caring about dented boxes or expiration dates. Hopefully Polly won't care if the fruit is bruised.

Ten minutes later, I carry the grocery bags to my car, itching with impatience as I search for Alex's car. She's one row over and three cars further away from the store. I take a deep breath and exhale, trying to act as casual as possible as I approach her.

"Do you leave your car in Darien?"

She places her bags in the trunk, and I'm reminded of the last time I watched her do that—it was her last day at the Peterman Clinic as she packed her belongings and left Darien for good.

"My old roommate has a two-car garage, so I've kept it at her place all year."

"That's convenient."

She tilts her head towards the passenger's seat. "Get in."

She could take me to the city dump, and I'd gladly oblige. I climb into the car, and it smells so much like her vanilla and leather scent that I almost get lightheaded by sniffing the air so deeply.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Nowhere," she answers. "I just thought it would be nice to have a little more privacy than in the middle of Stanley's Market."

"Oh." I'd hoped that maybe she'd want to go for a drive or park at a lookout point or something.

"I'm glad I ran into you." She strokes her thigh with fingers spread wide. "I wanted to talk about how we left things last year."

I gulp, not fully prepared to dive into murky waters so suddenly. It would be fine with me if we never mentioned that ill-fated kiss again.

"I'm sorry I pushed you away like that." She shakes her head lightly as if that's not what she meant to say. "I mean, I'm sorry I didn't stick around to talk about what happened."

I remain quiet, stunned by such an apology.

"I was frustrated and nervous and confused," she admits. "And instead of explaining that to you, I left. That wasn't the mature thing to do."

"Thank you for saying that, albeit a year later," I reply, trying to pretend her leaving didn't affect me as much as it did. "I probably shouldn't have kissed you in the middle of your office."

A little sound escapes her mouth, and I can't tell if it's one of regret or just a simple acknowledgment of the memory.

"I wanted you to be my first," I explain, gripping my hands in my lap so they'll stop shaking. I never thought I'd have the chance to tell her what was going through my head back then. "It didn't quite turn out like I'd hoped."

"First kisses rarely do." Her lips tug upwards in just a hint of a smile. "I hope you've had better kisses than that one."

"Not better," I shrug. "Just different."

"With girls?" I watch her throat contract as she swallows.

"Two boys and one girl," I answer, glad that I finally have permission to discuss my sexuality with her. "I like the way a girl's mouth feels more than a guy's." I instinctively touch my lower lip.

Her eyes track my hand. "Same."

That one word sends a thrill throughout my body. I can't imagine being the woman lucky enough to be on the other end of Alex's affection.

"I'm glad you can be open about it with me now," I say, trying like hell not to sound overly anxious.

"You understand why I didn't want to share that part of myself with you last year, right?"

"I had a crush on you, and you couldn't reciprocate." I lift my shoulders. "You didn't want me to think that just because you're gay, we had a bond or something." I pause. "Did we though?"

"Did we what?"

My gaze skates to her lips as I wonder how much room I have to operate in this delicate terrain. "Have a bond?"

"You were my client, Piper." She rests her head against the seatback and sighs. "I don't know if we had a _bond_, but what I said was true—I enjoyed talking to you…" She pauses then adds, "More than I probably should have."

That's a startling admission that sends my pulse racing. "I loved talking to you."

We remain silent for a couple minutes, and my mind is spinning with things I want to say. Instead, I close my eyes and allow myself to bask in her mere presence. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd reach over and hold her hand, caressing the back of it with my thumb.

"I was thinking…" She troubles the inside of her mouth, scrunching her lips to the side as if she's not quite sure if she should say whatever is on her mind. "Would you want to stay in touch?" she asks. "I don't mean every day or anything," she recants, and then shrugs. "I'm curious to see where life takes you."

I smile so wide that a slight laugh escapes my throat. "I'd love that."

"Do you still have my number?"

I pull out my cell phone and hit a button, then show her the screen with her mobile number. "Do you?"

She grins but doesn't take out her phone. "Yeah, I do."

_She still has my number?_ That has to mean something.

"I'll let you be the first to reach out," I say. "That way you won't accuse me of stalking you or anything."

"I wouldn't think that," she chuckles. I almost detect a blush on her cheeks. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your summer break."

"You, too."

"I should get going." She inserts the key in the ignition and suddenly, things are back to normal. "The frozen food won't stay cold for long in this kind of heat."

I cover her hand with mine and glance down at how naturally they look together. "It was _really_ good seeing you again, Alex."

She smiles, squeezing my hand tightly before letting go. "You, too."

I get out the car feeling elated. Maybe there's hope for us yet.

* * *

_Thank you, baby Jesus and all heavenly things I don't believe in_ for letting me keep that conversation above board. I hadn't planned on seeing Piper any time soon, so when we ran into each other, it caught me _completely_ off guard. Judging from the look on her face in the frozen food aisle, she felt the same. I also hadn't rehearsed what I'd say if we ever bumped into each other, so every word I uttered was off the cuff, especially the part about wanting to keep in touch. But in that moment, I couldn't let her leave without knowing she'd be in my life in some way.

I admit that I thought Piper was adorable a year ago, but she looks older; more mature this year. She's still adorable—beautiful even. I'd forgotten how deep her eyes are and how bright her smile is. I adore every beauty mark on her face, the set of her jaw and her perfect little nose.

Until today, I haven't allowed myself to truly appreciate how attractive she is. Before, it seemed like too much of a taboo to think that way, but I'm no longer her therapist and a full year has passed. The distance and time between us has helped me not only realize my physical attraction to her, but also my mental and emotional attraction. It's not like we had a riveting conversation in the car, but the way she talks and thinks and generally carries herself continues to affect me, which is why I tossed the whole staying touch thing out there.

I drive away with a smile, hoping the next chapter of our lives will make us a little more connected.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm glad to see so many people still being pulled to Vauseman fanfiction! Thank you sooooo much for the reviews. This story is nowhere near over, and yes, it will jump time but I don't think it'll be too jarring. Chapter 7 marks the end of Act 1. The second act won't be as lengthy as the first, but the third act will be long. (For those of you new to my work, I don't post incomplete stories, so _This is Stupid_ is pretty much wrapped up, but I don't know exactly how many chapters it will be. It's 210 pages in Word, so my rough estimate is 20 chapters.)


	8. Chapter 8

I wish I could pinpoint what it is about Piper that makes me yearn to know more, but I can't. It's a host of things including her intelligence, maturity, curiosity and beauty. I've found those qualities in a number of women, so why am I overwhelmingly attracted to a girl more than ten years my junior? I'm determined to figure it out, but for now, I decide to let things play out as they will.

Though my fingers itch to text her after our encounter at the grocery store, I hold off a full week before caving in. I've never struggled with how to communicate with _anyone_, let alone a woman, so I don't understand why it's so difficult for me to settle on something to say to Piper. I start and stop no fewer than five text messages until deciding upon something simple.

_How's it going?_

I check my phone every few minutes, but she doesn't reply. As I walk to my apartment that evening, I check my phone and see a text from Piper. I shouldn't feel as elated as I do.

_Hi! Just back from water skiing._

_Didn't know you're a skier_, I type.

_This was my first time…Turns out, I'm not_.

I push thoughts of Piper in a swimsuit aside as I text back. _I've never tried_.

_If I owned a boat, I'd take you_.

I wonder what that would be like—Piper and I casually hanging out on the water together without a care in the world.

A few minutes later, Piper texts again. _Have to set up for a friend's birthday party. Glad you contacted me._

_Have fun_.

If all our texts are as simple as that, I'd be happy.

* * *

I spend the next week, getting ready for my move to Baton Rouge. Piper hasn't communicated in that amount of time, and I wonder if she's still hoping I take the lead on how often we chat. So, after a quick run on a Wednesday morning, I text her.

_Working hard_?

I get back from the park and check my phone to find a message from her.

_If by working you mean getting paid to be bored out of my mind, then yes_.

_There must be something exciting that happened_. I type.

I get ready to take a shower when another text pops up. _One of our temps went off on another employee and quit yesterday. That was fun_.

_Seriously?_

_Yes_…_When do you leave for Baton Rouge_?

_Two more days. When do you go back to college_?

I quickly shower, then check my phone as I dry my hair.

_One week. Can't wait to get out of Darien_.

_Same…Good luck._

I'm not exactly sure what I'm hoping will come out of staying in touch with Piper but getting to know her while allowing her to enjoy college seems like a good place to start. Maybe college will change her—make her less inclined to communicate with her former counselor. Hell, that could be true for me as well—maybe my traveling job will redirect my attention and energy to whatever the next city has in store for me. Or maybe neither of those things will happen and we end up becoming closer over the next year or so. The beauty of our situation is that we can dial it back or ramp it up as we wish. There's no commitment on either of our parts, so we're free to communicate as often as we want.

Over the next four months, I temporarily move to Baton Rouge then to Boise. Piper and I text every other week, mostly about a class she's taking or a project she's working on. My life seems pretty dull compared to hers, yet I remember a time in the drug cartel when nothing would've been further from the truth. While I regret doing illegal shit, I loved my lifestyle back then and find myself missing it from time to time. My hope for Piper is that she takes advantage of every opportunity in college. From what she's shared so far, I'm glad to know she's doing exactly that.

I realize I don't have a picture of her until she sends me a selfie all bundled up at a ski resort in December, and I send her one of me next to a fireplace in Duluth. I find myself glancing at her photo more than I thought I might over the holidays, and I kind of wish she'd send more.

A couple of months later, I move to Knoxville where I meet a woman who I date for six of my eight-week stint. She's older than me, a good conversationalist, and a wandering soul. I consider asking her to join me in Salt Lake City for my next job, but I really don't want to be tied down. I also don't see her being my one true love (if I believed in that sort of thing), so our time together was ideal for its duration. When I leave Knoxville behind, I have no trouble leaving her, too.

Spring break comes along, and I get the second selfie from Piper in Fort Walton Beach, Florida, this time wearing a hot pink bikini and Ray Ban aviators. While I've enjoyed getting to know her better over the past year, I haven't allowed myself to think about her sexually…until this picture shows up. I try to avoid looking at it for several hours, but it's a futile attempt.

One night, I prop the phone up on the nightstand and touch myself, wishing it were her fingers in my underwear and her lips on my breasts. I don't dare mention what her picture has done to me. No way in hell am I going down the path of phone sex. We haven't even shared a meaningful kiss—we might never get to that. For now, I'll allow the increasing sexual fantasies to play out exclusively in my mind.

* * *

I have sex for the first time with a fellow Smithie the week before summer vacation after my sophomore year, and it's amazing. I love how soft she is and how gently she touches me. The horrible part is as hard as I tried, I couldn't stop imagining Alex between my legs. I wonder if the picture I sent of myself in a bikini affected her. I took a risk by sending it, but I didn't hear any backlash. Maybe she deleted it without giving it a second thought.

Two weeks before summer break, I find out that I've secured an internship at a psychology clinic, and I can't wait to tell Alex.

_Just found out I got that internship in Boston!_

About an hour later, she texts back. _Congrats…I've always thought you'd make a great counselor_.

_Thanks. Might have to pick your brain_…_Where is your next deployment?_

_You make it sound like I'm in the military. _She uses the winking Emoji._ I got the job in Anchorage. Won't be back until March._

_Excited?_

_Yeah—something totally different_.

_Maybe we can see each other when you're back in the lower 48?_ I type, holding my breath.

_I'd like that_.

We end the conversation as such, and now I can't wait for next year.

* * *

Anchorage is absolutely stunning in the summer and early fall, but the winter is miserable. It's dark nearly all day, and I'm in serious need of some Vitamin C. If I allow myself a bit of cheesiness with my third glass of whiskey tonight, I need a dose of Vitamin P. I decide to text her.

_Please send warm thoughts. By warm, I mean literally 80 degrees and sunshine_.

A few minutes later, she texts back. _It's cold here, but probably not as dark_.

_Nothing is darker than Anchorage in February...maybe the North Pole, which isn't that far away_.

_Tell Santa I've been a good girl_.

I could take this down a naughty rabbit hole, but instead I write: _Send me a pic._

She sends me a photo of her in what looks like her dorm room in a white tank top with no bra. I can see her nipples through the thin material. I zoom in and stare. It's enough to get me a little riled up.

_Why are you wearing a tank top in winter_? I type.

_The heater is regulated for the entire floor_, she writes. _It's either freezing or sweltering in here. Tonight, it's the former_…_Your turn_.

I take a picture of myself with my legs kicked up on the coffee table and a glass of whiskey balanced on my thigh.

_There's something sexy about a woman drinking whiskey_.

Exhilaration courses through my body with the thought of Piper implying she thinks I'm sexy; however, I decide to keep things tame. _How would you know_?

_Photos I see, movies I watch._ _shrug_

I take a long drag of Jameson and decide, to hell with it, I'm going to call her.

"Hello?"

"Can't you see it's me calling?" I chuckle.

I hear the desk chair scrape the floor. "Yeah, but you caught me off guard."

"It's good to hear your voice," I say. We've only spoken on the phone once over the past year, and I didn't realize how much I missed the sound of her voice.

"Yours, too," she replies. "What are you doing?"

"Reading a psychological journal."

"Which one?"

I close the publication and toss it on the table. "_Psychological Science in the Public Interest_."

"Sounds boring," she says.

I chuckle. "It's not terrible, but I could use a distraction."

"Happy to distract you any time," she replies in a more seductive voice than usual voice before switching gears. "I was just about to text to ask if you know what happens on June 7?"

I tap my fingers on the cushion, trying to recall why that date would be significant. "June 7? No."

"I say goodbye to my teen years," she proudly states.

"Wow." Knowing Piper is _almost_ fully an adult excites me. It would be better if she was 21, but 20 is better than 19 and so on. "Good for you."

"Take me out when you're in town this summer."

I would _love_ to do that, but… "I wasn't planning on coming home this summer."

"We can make a night of it," she says, ignoring the part about me not coming home. I wonder if she thinks she can wish it into existence.

I crease by eyebrows. "What about your internship in Boston?"

"It's from July 1 to August 15."

"That's practically the whole summer," I note.

"I finish school on May 15, so my summer begins then." I picture her shrugging. "And I don't come back to Smith until right before Labor Day."

I'm ready to see her after a year and a half, but it's unlikely to happen soon. "I have to work through June."

"Too bad," she replies. "Where are you going after Anchorage?"

"I have a five-week maternity coverage in White Plains," I say.

White Plains is not a place I'm dying to visit, but I don't have a choice about where they send me. As the company expands, I might be able to be picky in the future, but for now, I'm relegated to go wherever they place me.

"Oh. I was hoping you'd be closer to home."

I'm not sure if I should admit this, but the alcohol is making my lips looser than normal. "Me, too, kid."

"It's almost one in the morning here." She yawns. "I have to get some sleep before my eight o'clock class tomorrow."

"Ok, sleep well."

"You, too. Thanks for calling."

I hang up and sigh, wishing not for the first time we were closer than 6,000 miles away.

* * *

The summer before Piper's junior year, I return to Darien for a brief trip to visit Nicky on the way down to White Plains for my next clinical placement. The first thing I think about as I pass the "Welcome to Darien" sign is if Piper is in town. She has a summer internship in Boston that she mentioned didn't end until late August, so I assume that's where she's living at the moment.

I don't know what I'd do if we ran into each other now that so much time has passed. Talking on the phone and texting is one thing but seeing each other in person would be something else entirely. I've seen three or four pictures of her over the years, but it would be vastly different seeing her in the flesh. I wonder if she's put on some weight or lost some. I wonder if she dresses differently or styles her hair in something other than a ponytail or loose curls. No matter what she might look like, I'm sure I'd still find her attractive.

Although we could take the train into Manhattan quite easily, Nicky suggests that we go to dinner at Lombardi's, which was my favorite restaurant in Darien when we lived together. Though the interior of the restaurant is dated, they used to make the best linguine with clam sauce in the Northeast, and I'm eager to see if that's still the case. I have to leave for White Plains at the crack of dawn, so it won't be a late night; nevertheless, it'll be good to catch up with my old friend over wine and pasta.

"You look good, Vause." Nicky meets me in the restaurant lobby. I had to run errands before this, so we agreed to meet at Lombardi's rather than take one car.

"I haven't done anything different." I glance down at my black jeans and red top. "This isn't even a new blouse."

She grins. "You always look good."

The hostess seats us at a booth in the back of the restaurant. Over a bottle of Chianti, we chat about Nicky's love life and the happenings in Darien. I miss talking to her and wish we didn't live so far away from each other. She keeps saying she'll come visit wherever I am, but something always comes up.

I take the first bite of clam linguine and moan at the flavorful sauce. "Mmm…still delicious."

Nicky twirls pasta onto her fork. "You must eat at some pretty good restaurants in all the places you've been."

"The food in Baton Rouge was great," I comment around a sautéed clam. "Everywhere else is pretty standard fare. In Knoxville—" I stop speaking as my eyes land on a person being seated near the bay window in the front of the restaurant. "Is that? It can't be."

"What?" Nicky spins around.

I squint to make sure my eyes aren't deceiving me.

"Recognize someone?" Nicky asks, body still twisted as she scans the room.

"I…Yeah." I set my fork down. "That's Piper."

She returns to her normal position. "The girl you _didn't_ have a crush on a couple years ago?"

"Yeah," comes out as a disbelieving breath.

She's wearing a white wrap dress that has ruffles on the closure and dips low at the neck. Her hair is shorter than I remember, barely skimming her shoulders. She has on wedge heels that make her at least three inches taller than her…her…the woman she's with.

Nicky snaps me out of my daze. "You might want to close your mouth."

My mouth is terribly dry. I lift the glass of water, taking three long sips. My first inclination is to run to her, but I'm not sure that's a good idea.

"Do you want to say hi?"

I set the water down and muse out loud, "Is she on a date?"

"So what if she is? You've stayed in touch all these years, right?" Nicky comments. "I'm sure she'd be happy to see you."

I tear my eyes off Piper and glance at the woman she's with. I recognize her—it's the girl she was with at the pizza parlor that summer before she went to college. She had a strange name…_Zelda_. Has she been seeing Zelda this whole time? Or do they have some kind of arrangement when Piper comes home?

I slide my chair back. "I have to go to the bathroom."

I make haste to the restroom, but when I get to the hallway, I peek around the corner and continue watching her. She takes the other woman's hand and is smiling from ear to ear. I'd almost forgotten how bright her smile is, but I hate that Zelda is on the other end of it. I want to talk to her, but I don't want things to be awkward if I approach her while she's on a date. Things were great before this moment, but now that Piper might be with Zelda, it's knocked the wind out of my sails.

I quickly use the restroom, and then return to my booth.

"I've kept an eye on your girl," Nicky says.

"She's not my girl." I don't like the agitation in my tone. "Never was."

Nicky slices through a meatball. "I don't think they're a couple."

I pick up my fork but don't take a bite. "What makes you say that?"

She motions back and forth. "I don't know…I'm not sensing a romantic vibe."

"Doesn't matter," I sigh. "It's none of my business."

"This is the girl you haven't been able to shake for two fucking years." Nicky leans forward as if she's going to jump over the table. "You don't even want to say hello?"

I shake my head. "I'm not going to interrupt her with an _Oh, hey Piper, you wanna leave your date high and dry to catch up_?"

"It doesn't have to be like that," Nicky responds. "You could just walk over there, ask how she's doing, and then come back here. Simple."

I observe her chatting with Zelda as if no one else is in the room. "It's never that simple with Piper."

"Suit yourself, Vause. Sometimes you surprise me."

"Why?" I return my attention to my now lukewarm pasta.

She sips her wine. "I've never seen you act like a chicken shit before."

"I'm not afraid of talking to her," I respond. "Now's not the time."

She shrugs. "Alright, fine."

I know she thinks I'm scared, but I'm really not—at least not of saying hi. What I _might_ be afraid of that I'm unwilling to admit is that Piper could be dating Zelda. I don't want to confirm my suspicions and feel like shit for the rest of my stay in Dairen or, you know, the rest of the year.

"Tell me more about your trip to Costa Rica," I say, changing the topic altogether.

As we finish our meal, I glance at Piper occasionally, and she seems oblivious to everyone else but the woman across from her. Zelda says something every so often that makes her laugh, and one time, I'm treated to Piper rolling her neck back with laughter. I wish I was closer to watch the muscles in her neck contract. She has a gorgeous neck.

"You wanna get some dessert? They have tiramisu."

"Hmm?" I focus on Nicky again.

"Dessert?"

I shake my head and toss my napkin on the table. "I'm not in the mood."

She eyes me but doesn't comment on my desire to get the fuck out of here. Nicky knows me too well to push the envelope. "We'll just get the check then."

I make it out of the restaurant unscathed, but there's a pang in my chest. Who am I kidding? I've got it bad for a college girl I haven't seen in two years who happens to be with someone else.

* * *

Piper and I don't talk or text for another two weeks as she heads back to Northampton for her junior year. I never mention seeing her at Lombardi's, and she doesn't bring up Zelda or her trip to Darien. Seeing her with another woman affected me more than I thought it might. I decide to lengthen the time between communicating, which seems to suit Piper just fine considering junior year is the most difficult yet. She's decided to double major in English and psychology and pick up a minor in neuroscience, which means she's taking 18 credits and has double the homework than she did her first two years.

Our conversations used to run the gamut from weather to classes to politics to music to me describing the city I'm living in at the moment. Now they're almost exclusively about the psychology classes she's taking or internships she might qualify for next summer. She asks questions about my profession but rarely mentions or asks personal things. We've never discussed dating other people, or God forbid, having sex.

Maybe I'm simply meant to be Piper's mentor. I enjoy discussing the nuances of clinical psychology with her, and she soaks up the non-confidential stories I share. We haven't had a racy conversation or text thread in a year, so perhaps that's not where we're headed. Still, I think about her in a _more than friends_ way often, but I don't know if she feels the same. Of course a simple discussion could clear the matter up, but shouldn't that happen organically? Maybe I'm not ready for the answer and prefer living in a fantasy world of _it could happen_.

* * *

The good news about my next job placement is that it's the most exotic one yet: Dana Point, California. Although I'm not the biggest fan of sunbathing, going to a beachside community sounds heavenly after the cold places I've lived over the past three years.

Nicky is happy to welcome me back to Darien for my short stay one weekend in the early summer.

She greets me with a hug. "Welcome home, stranger."

"Still no roommate, huh?" I tease.

"You were right the last time—I like having the place to myself." She walks into the kitchen. "Can I interest you in a cocktail?"

"A cocktail would be great, thanks." I haul two suitcases and a duffle bag into my old bedroom before returning to the kitchen. "How've you been?"

"Great, actually." She pours gin into two glasses. "I'm dating a girl who might be just a little older than your teenage flame."

I give her a cautionary look. "Piper was never my flame, but she'll be 21 this month. How old is your girl?"

"She's 23 and hot, Vause—I mean _hot_." She wiggles her eyebrows. "She's a new barista at The Roasted Bean. Moved here after realizing that Manhattan is completely unaffordable."

I top the gin off with tonic water. "How long have you been seeing each other?"

"A little more than four months," she states proudly. "Longest relationship I've had in years."

I chuckle. "Sounds about right."

"Are you and Piper still in touch?"

I follow her into the living room. "Not as often as we used to."

"Did you ever ask her if she was on a date when we saw her at Lombardi's?" She takes a sip of her cocktail.

"Last summer?" I ask as if I don't remember _exactly_ when it was that I last laid eyes on Piper. "No, and I don't plan to."

"Why not?"

"If it was something she wanted to tell me, she would've," I respond. "When we _do_ talk or text, it's not really about personal stuff. Besides, we're both busy."

"Too busy to send a five-second text?"

"I worked odd hours in my last two jobs," I explain. "And she's taking a heavy load at Smith."

Nicky counts on her fingers. "Is she a senior?"

"She will be this fall," I respond.

"Are you still attracted to her?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "I mean, when we talk, I'm interested in the stuff she brings up…She's still cute." I lift my shoulders again. "I don't know what it would be like to hang out after so much time has passed, you know?"

"At least she's almost 21 now—you could be with her if you wanted."

"She's still so young." I lean back against the sofa. "But she's fascinating, Nicky…" I trail off, an image of Piper popping into my head. "She's smart, she's funny, she's well-read, she's beautiful, she takes things seriously but not _too_ seriously…"

Nicky turns fully towards me. "Maybe you're scared to admit it out loud, Vause, but you've had a thing for her since she was 17, and it doesn't seem to be going away."

I rest my elbows on my knees and massage my temples.

"I don't see what the problem is since she's not your client."

"The age difference is huge," I repeat my primary concern and get to my feet. "It feels like I've lived an entire life while Piper was still in diapers."

"That might be true, but you're more on the same playing field now than you were three years ago," she responds. "She's still in college, but so what? If you want to wait until she graduates, go for it, but I know I couldn't wait that long."

I give her a look. "It's not sexual."

"Come on, Vause. It's me you're talking to." She opens her arms. "There's gotta be a part of you that wants to get in her pants."

I sip my drink and shake my head. It would feel weird to admit out loud that I _have_ thought about Piper sexually.

"That used to be the _first_ thing we'd discuss when you met someone," she says. "What makes this chick so different?"

"I don't know; she just is," I reply. "As fucked up as this sounds coming from me, it's way more than sex, which we've never had, by the way."

Nicky's lips tick up as she tosses her head from side to side. "I don't know how you've held out this long."

"The circumstances were obviously fucked up when we met," I respond. "They still are." I walk into the kitchen and grab the bottle of Bombay Sapphire. "Can we change the subject? Tell me more about this barista."

We spend the rest of the evening talking about Nicky's new girlfriend, my job and my next assignment. Although I could never date her, Nicky is the best friend I've ever had, and I'm grateful for her levity and companionship.

* * *

Author's Note: I went back and forth about whether Alex should approach Piper at Lombardi's, but my beta and I agreed that Alex was too scared to potentially learn that Piper is dating Zelda. (We'll revisit this scene in a future chapter.) Furthermore, I think if Alex had approached her, they'd end up talking all night and working things out, and that's not where I want to be at this point in the story. I'll admit this wasn't my favorite chapter to write, but I had to cover a lot of time. Time will continue to move forward for one more chapter, and then we get to more of the "present day" stuff. I hope this chapter was satisfying enough.


	9. Chapter 9

Although it was unpaid, my summer internship after sophomore year was better than I could've imagined. It sure beat the hell out of the past two summers, working at my dad's corporate office in Darien. I would like to have seen Alex that summer, but she mentioned back then that it wouldn't be probable. Knowing that in advance, I dove into my work at the clinic and even put in extra hours when the staff needed me.

Since I decided to double major, my junior year at Smith was brutal from a work/life balance standpoint. I didn't go to many parties, didn't go on any dates, and didn't communicate with Alex as often as I would've liked. It seemed when we _did_ talk or text, it was mostly me asking questions about her career. I always hoped she'd change the subject to something more personal, but the most personal she got was telling me about whatever city she was living in at the moment and some of the things she experienced that were unique to the region. There was nothing intimate about our conversations, and I wonder if that's just how our lives will play out.

For three years, I've held out hope that Alex and I would find a way to be together. Perhaps that was a stupid dream; after all, she's so much older than me. Maybe she thinks of herself as a mentor now that I might become a psychologist. While I love hearing her stories and getting advice about the profession, I don't want Alex to play that role in my life. I want her to be my partner—at least that _was_ my long-term desire. It's starting to fade not because I've lost interest, but because we don't seem to be moving in that direction.

If anything, I was hoping to see Alex for my 21st birthday, but the stars haven't aligned. She's working 12-hour days in Oregon, and I'm a Youth Residential Counselor at a treatment center in Eastern Massachusetts. Although I don't get the privilege of seeing her in person, she calls me on June 7.

"Happy birthday," she greets me.

I smile into the phone. "Thank you."

"Did you get my card?"

"I did." I was hoping it would be a little more sentimental, but all she wrote was 'Wish I could celebrate with you. Have a wonderful birthday,' and signed her name. "Thanks for sending it."

"Are you doing anything special today?"

"The kids at the treatment center are baking me a cake," I respond, recognizing disappointment in my tone. "Other than that, I don't have plans until the weekend."

"Is Polly planning a bar crawl or something?"

"I think that's the idea," I say. "She's working in Boston, so I'm going to spend Friday and Saturday nights with her."

"I'm sure it'll be fun."

I shrug. "Drinking isn't really my thing, but I guess bar hopping is something everybody does when they turn 21."

"If ever there was a time I'd endorse getting drunk, this would be it," she chuckles.

"What did you do when you turned 21?"

A little laugh escapes her throat. "I was on a beach in Tahiti eating raw oysters with caviar and sipping a bottle of 1959 Dom Perignon."

"That sounds amazing." I know Alex wasn't on vacation—she was working for the drug cartel.

"That was a good day," she muses. "They weren't all that good."

I love hearing about her days in the cartel, though she doesn't share much about her younger years. "Did you ever have to run from the police?"

"The police weren't involved with the stuff I did. It was more high-level law enforcement," she says. "There were a few times when we had to pack our bags in like 20 minutes and get the fuck out of whatever country we were in. I hated that part of the job—constantly worrying about getting caught. That seems like a lifetime ago," she continues. "Now, the most interesting part of my day is listening to clients tell me horror stories about overdosing."

I smile lightly. "Which would you prefer?"

"I'd prefer traveling around the world and getting paid a shit ton of money for doing something _legal_ instead of pedaling drugs."

"Like working in a clinic in Eugene?"

"Totally," she replies, through what sounds like a grin. "The people here are super crunchy. If I so much as throw a banana peel in the wrong bin, I get lectured."

That causes me to giggle. "It's the same at Smith."

"Did I tell you where my next placement will be?"

"I don't think you did." That serves to remind me how infrequently we communicate.

"Dana Point, California," she says. "It's halfway between Orange County and San Diego."

I toss my head back. "Ugh, I'm jealous."

"It's the first city I'm really looking forward to living in for a few months."

I hear one of the other counselors call for me. "I'm being beckoned."

"Well, I hope you have an awesome birthday, Piper."

"Thanks."

I hang up even more depressed than I was before I took her call. If there was ever a time when I thought Alex might say something intimate or special, it would be on this significant birthday. After all, I'm now a full-fledged adult and she should have no qualms about exploring a relationship with 'a kid.' I go back to wondering if that's just not what the fates have in store for us, and it makes me sad.

* * *

Polly does have special plans for us that weekend, and my melancholy mood shifts when she relays the details. Three of our Smith friends join us in Boston for a Saturday night on the town that begins with a fancy dinner at Alden & Harlow and is followed by bar hopping in Cambridge. They make me do a tequila shot in every bar, and by the fourth one, I'm hammered.

"I'm going to stick with beer from here on out." I push the shot glass away.

"Oh, come on," Polly chides. "You only turn 21 once!"

"I highly doubt you'll want to clean up my vomit if I keep doing shots."

"Yeah, that's gross."

In every bar we enter, a group of guys buys us drinks. One of them is Harvard grad who tries to stick his tongue down my throat, but I don't allow it. I've done a pretty good job of enjoying the bar crawl for what it is, but at the end of the night, my thoughts drift to Alex. I'm too drunk to put those thoughts aside, so I decide to call her.

"Where are you going?" Polly asks as I exit the pub.

"I need to make a call. Be right back."

I step into the humid night air and click her number. The phone rings four times, and just as I'm about to hang up, she answers.

"Piper?"

"Hi." I smile.

"It's after one in the morning where you are. Are you ok?" she asks in a worrisome tone.

"Yeah," I respond a little slurry. "I'm out with Polly and some friends for my birthday celebration."

"Oh, right," she replies in a calmer voice. "Have you had a little too much to drink?"

"A lot too much." I hiccup.

She chuckles. "You deserve to let loose on your 21st birthday. Having fun?"

"Yes, but I don't want to drink anymore."

"Then don't," she says. "You don't strike me as someone who'd give in to peer pressure."

"I did when I was 17," I offer. "Remember the whole pot and vodka thing?"

She lets out a small laugh. "I do."

"Have you been thinking about me?" I blame my boldness on the alcohol.

"I think about you often," she replies.

I tilt my head. "I miss talking to you, Alex."

"We haven't communicated much this year," she sighs, but I can't tell if it's a sad sigh or a _we should fix that _sigh.

I decide to continue my bold streak. Well, I don't know that it's a decision as much as it is words just tumbling out of my mouth. "I wanted you to say something extra special to me on my actual birthday or write something meaningful in the card you sent."

"Like what?" I can almost hear her smirking—like she's enjoying my drunken honesty.

"I don't know." I raise my shoulders. "Like you miss me or that you wish we could celebrate together—just the two of us."

"I think both of those things."

I'm surprised to hear that. "Really?"

"Yes."

"I want to see you, Alex."

"Let's talk about it next week," she offers. "For now, go have fun with your friends."

"I'm ready to go to bed."

"None of you are driving, right?"

I walk back into the loud bar. "No, we took the T."

"Good. I'll text you in the morning. Be careful and have fun."

"Ok, bye."

The night ends in a blur, and the next morning, I don't remember my call with Alex until she texts to make sure I got home safely. The only part of our conversation I recall was her admitting she misses me. That makes me happy, but I don't know when we'll see each other again.

The following week, Alex and I text a few times, but neither of us brings up a trip to see each other. As it appears now, we're back to square one.

* * *

My senior year at Smith, I'm elected as the president of Psi Chi, the collegiate National Honor Society in Psychology. My advisor encourages me to attend the national conference that happens to be in San Diego in October. I'm positively giddy with this news and immediately call Alex.

"Hey," she answers the phone after the second ring. "You caught me on a break between clients."

I glance at my watch, suddenly realizing she's probably at work on this Thursday. "Oh, sorry."

"It's fine, but I only have a few minutes. What's up?"

I dive right in. "My advisor told me about the Psi Chi national conference in San Diego this fall."

"San Diego?"

I nod even though she can't see me.

"Can you take some time away from school to attend?" she asks.

"If there are still spots available, I'm going no matter what," I reply. "I can make up classwork before or after the conference."

"That's great, Piper."

"I tried to register online, but the deadline passed, so I sent an e-mail to the conference coordinator," I say. "Cross your fingers that this works out."

_Please, Alex, mention the fact that you're living an hour away from San Diego and invite me to visit you._

"I will." I hear her smiling into the phone. "Let me know what happens. My next client is here. I have to go."

I hang up with extreme disappointment.

I'm not going to invite myself to her place—that's something Alex would have to ask. Does she not want me to visit her? Or did she simply not put two and two together to realize we'll be like 50 miles from each other? Maybe she didn't want to suggest a meet up because I haven't secured a spot at the conference. Or maybe I caught her at a bad time and she was distracted with wrapping up one client and moving on to the next.

If there's an opportunity for me to go to this conference, I'm going even if that means not seeing Alex, I just think it would be a shame to miss this _one_ chance we've been given to see each other over the past three years.

* * *

Although it's not fair to my client, I can't stop thinking about Piper possibly traveling to San Diego this fall. On one hand, I'm ecstatic about possibly seeing her. On the other hand, I worry too much time has passed for us to reconnect in a meaningful way. I take a walk outside during my lunch break and decide to call Nicky.

"You never call me in the late afternoon," she answers. "What's going on, Vause?"

"It's not late afternoon in California," I remind her. "I'm on my lunch break."

"Ah, right…three hour time difference."

"I have a dilemma," I say.

"I'm great at solving dilemmas."

I roll my eyes. That has not been my experience, but she's a good sounding board, so I continue. "Piper is coming to San Diego for a conference in a few weeks…well, I think she is if they still have a spot for her."

"Is that close to where you live?"

I turn the corner towards the beach. "It's like an hour away."

"Are you calling to see if I think you should drive down to visit her?"

I toss my breadcrust to the seagulls. "Something like that."

"The way you've been stuck on this chick, I'm surprised you haven't already made plans to see her," she says. "Why _wouldn't_ you go?"

"We haven't seen each other in a long time," I reply. "And the topic hasn't really come up other than one night when she mentioned it during a drunken phone call." I recall our conversation on Piper's birthday. "She might not be interested in seeing me again."

"Unless she's found herself another woman, trust me, she still has the hots for you."

I stop under the shade of a palm tree. "Why do you think that?"

"Come on, Vause—you're smart, funny and hot as fuck," she replies. "No way anyone _really_ gets over you."

That causes me to smile. "I just don't want to jump the gun and assume she'd want to stay with me."

"Jump the gun? You two have been dancing around each other for three fucking years! Don't you think it's time to see if you have any _real_ chemistry?" Nicky asks. "Even if it's only for a night, you should see her so you'll know where you stand."

"I guess."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

I ponder that for a moment. "We could see each other and that initial attraction we had years ago would be gone and everything is totally platonic."

"Would that be so bad?"

"No." And then it hits me—if that's my biggest concern and I can fully admit that I _am_ attracted to Piper, then what's holding me back?

"Best case is you see her and realize you're both still hot for each other," she says. "Then you fuck for three days straight and figure things out from there."

I chuckle at her crass mind.

"Bottom line is that you should see her," Nicky continues. "Your paths haven't crossed in a long fucking time, and it seems like fate had a hand in this one."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Let me know what you decide."

"I will." I turn and walk back to the office. "Thanks, Nicky."

* * *

I go home that night with a burdened mind. Nicky is right—I should see Piper if she's able to attend the conference. What's preventing me from asking her to take the train to Dana Point? I've never been afraid of anything in my life. I don't think she'd turn me down even if she thinks of me as a friend and possibly a mentor. There wouldn't be anything wrong with that either, but if I'm being honest with myself, I want more from her. I want to know what it feels like to be with her physically. I want to potentially date her or whatever you'd call it when we're thousands of miles apart for the majority of the year. While I can't ignore her age, I also can't ignore that I've had feelings for her for _three long years_.

If I dig way deep inside, I know what I'm afraid of: rejection. To hell with that. I'm a grown ass woman who finally can admit what I want, and if I don't go after it, I'll regret never knowing if these feelings are legitimate.

I eat a quick dinner, then compose my notes from the day before deciding to text Piper. _Are you still awake?_

About 15 minutes pass before she replies:_ Yeah, it's only 10 pm. _

I hit the FaceTime button.

"Hi!" She greets me with a wide smile. "To what do I owe the honor of a FaceTime call?"

A bath towel is draped over her shoulder and I notice her neck is glistening with sweat and hair is falling out of a ponytail.

"Did you just workout at like nine o'clock at night?" I ask, distracted by how fucking hot she looks.

_Hot_ is not a word I've used to describe Piper in the past. Adorable, cute, beautiful, sure, but the only time the word _hot_ even remotely entered my mind was when she sent me that bikini picture two spring breaks ago, and that was just a photograph. But damn if she doesn't look sexy right now.

"I went for a night run with some friends."

I can't take my eyes off her legs in those running shorts—I've always admired her legs even when I probably shouldn't have. "You can call me back after a shower if you want." What I'd like her to do is strip right there while I watch.

"I'll shower in a minute." She walks into the bathroom, tossing the towel over a rack. "What's up?"

I try staring at her face rather than her body. "I wanted to see if you'd heard anything about the conference."

She tugs off her shoes and socks. "Oh, yeah, sorry. I have to pay a late fee, but they'll let me register."

"Why didn't you text me?"

"I haven't actually registered yet." She yanks her t-shirt over her head and is standing in front of me in a royal blue sports bra.

There goes my plan of focusing on her face.

"I was going to after I received confirmation that they still have a spot for me."

I have to shut my mouth as I continue to gaze at her nipples. "If they do, you're planning to attend?"

"Yeah." She fiddles with something out of the camera's range, and I see her toned stomach. "I think it would be good professional development for me and maybe even an opportunity to network."

If only I could reach out and touch her…"You know San Diego is like 50 miles from Dana Point."

"66 miles to be exact."

If she knows the precise distance between cities, that means she _has_ thought about seeing me.

"Why didn't you mention visiting me the last time we spoke?"

She shrugs. "You didn't invite me."

I lick my lips as I continue to admire her long, lean body. "Consider this your invitation."

"I'll think about it," she responds.

My heart sinks. There's no way I read this incorrectly.

"I'm kidding," she laughs, revealing her pearly whites. "I'd love to see you, Alex."

_Thank God_. "Good."

She turns on the water in the shower. "For now, I need to get clean. Talk tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll call around the same time."

She smiles. "Perfect."

We hang up, and I'm elated that not only will I get to see Piper soon, but that I've finally realized I absolutely want to explore a relationship with her. That and I'd kill to have sex with her.

* * *

The thought of Alex being my _girlfriend_ thrills me even though that's waaaay premature. I won't presume to think that's where this visit will lead us, but she must have invited me to Dana Point to feel things out or something. No way would Alex ask me to visit her to say we have to stop communicating; she would tell me as much over the phone. And why would she want to stop talking? That can't be it.

As I take a shower, I think about the years that have passed since we first met. I understand why we couldn't be together three years ago—I'd just turned 18 and had received my high school diploma, while she was nearing 30 and getting her license to practice psychology. We're miles ahead of where we were, but I won't pretend everything will be smooth sailing from here on out. She's got a lucrative and exciting job that takes her all over the country, and I'm a college senior with no real idea of what kind of work I want to do after graduation.

If I didn't have a reason to go to California, I wonder when the next time would be when we'd see each other. I don't know if I could've gone another year if I still held out hope that our relationship could shift to a more romantic one. The truth is, I've tried dating other people—men and women—but it always comes back to Alex without even knowing if something _more_ is even remotely possible.

I have a difficult time falling asleep that night as I toss and turn in bed with anticipation of our visit even though it's a month away. I haven't seen her in person since two summers ago, and that was a 10-minute chat in her car in the parking lot of Stanley's Market—hardly enough time to marvel at how beautiful and smart she is.

Eventually, I drift off to sleep with a grin on my face excited about what the future holds for the two of us.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I have good news and bad news. The good news is I'm posting a **Mature Rated** chapter today. You waited nine, long chapters for this; I hope it satisfies your every wish. 😊 The bad news is I'm going out of town and won't post again until Monday. Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm flattered by many of your comments, though I am totally undeserving. On with the show...

* * *

The Psi Chi conference turns out to be enlightening and well worth every day away from school. I learned a great deal about advances in the field as well as how psychological writing could fit into a future career. I also met a few influential people who vowed to stay in touch for possible job opportunities after I graduate. For the most part, I was able to focus on the enlightening sessions and the people I met without thinking about my impending trip to meet Alex. Now that the conference is over, my anxiety amps up as I board the train to Dana Point.

As the Pacific Surfliner chugs north, I get a little more tense and worried that things might not go as well as I'd like them to. Maybe I'm nervous for no reason. If I just allow things to flow naturally, there's no need to be anxious. I have a pretty good sense of Alex after all these years, and if I find her to be a little standoffish, I'll get the message immediately. I'll worry myself to death if I keep playing out worst case scenarios in my mind.

Just after four o'clock, my train arrives at the Dana Point station. I make a quick stop in the restroom to freshen up, and then with a racing heart, I head into the depot where Alex is supposed to meet me. There are at least 50 people in the area, making it difficult to spot her quickly. I hear my name and twist my neck to see her walking towards me with a wide smile and bouncy black hair.

I do my best not to _run_ to her, and as soon as we meet, I wrap my arms around her waist.

"Hi," comes out more as a breath than a word. "It is _so_ good to see you."

As I hold her tight, savoring her familiar scent of leather and vanilla, I realize this is the first time we've _ever_ hugged. It feels amazing to be on the other end of her affection even if it's platonic.

"You, too." She pulls back, smiling from ear to ear. "You look great."

Alex looks even more stunning than I can remember in her dark jeans and black, fashionable blouse. "So do you." It's the first time I've seen her with wavy hair.

She eyes my small suitcase. "Is this all you brought?"

"I'm a light packer."

"I can see that." She grabs the handle and motions her head towards the exit. "How was the train ride?"

"Beautiful," I say, nerves settling now that I'm in her presence. "I've never been to California."

"This was my first time, too," she says. "Well, technically I crossed the border and spent a couple hours in the far northern part of the state when I worked at the hospital in Ashland last year."

"From what I've read, Northern California is vastly different from the landscape down here," I reply as we turn the corner. "I meant to go to the beach, but I was too busy at the conference to make it happen."

She stops in front of a white Nissan sedan. "It'll be impossible not to be on the beach in Dana Point."

"Is this your car?"

"It's a rental." She places my suitcase in the trunk. "The Jetta is back in Darien."

I climb into the passenger's seat, keeping the conversation casual as I feel out if this is going to be a 'friendly' trip or something more. "Does your company pay for rental cars?"

"They give me a housing and a transportation stipend," Alex explains, sliding into the driver's seat. "Depending on where I'm living, I either rent a car or take public transportation. Unfortunately, Southern California doesn't have an efficient public transportation system."

"That was one of the best things about living in Boston during my internship." I buckle my seatbelt. "I took the T everywhere."

"Very few cities have that kind of reliable train system." She starts the car and proceeds out of the parking lot. "How was the conference?"

I fill her in on the opening speaker, the educational sessions and the contacts I made. Turns out, Alex worked with one of the presenters in a clinic a couple years ago. Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at her house, which is a coral-painted cottage just steps away from the ocean.

I get out of the car and shield the sun from my eyes. "You didn't tell me you lived _on_ the beach."

"I must've left that part out."

I walk a few feet to the edge of the sand. "You actually _live_ here?"

"I do." She grabs my suitcase from the trunk. "This is the nicest place I've stayed. I'm usually in a nondescript apartment or an extended stay hotel."

"I don't think I'd ever want to leave."

She walks up the four steps and opens the door. "It'll be more difficult to leave this place than the others."

I jog up the steps and enter the house. The interior is tiny but well-appointed. There's a sectional sofa in front of two windows, a small wooden coffee table, and two matching end tables. The blue & white nautical decorations are minimal but make the space feel homey. Close to one end of the sofa is a counter with two stools, and just beyond that is a small kitchen with a two-burner stove, refrigerator, sink, and a microwave. There's no dining area or place for a table and chairs.

Alex rolls my suitcase against the far wall. "It's small, but it's all I need."

I peek out of one of the windows. "The view makes it seem like the beach is your living room."

"Exactly. I'll give you the grand tour." She walks down a narrow hallway. "This is my bedroom."

The room is about the same size as the living room with a similar nautical theme. There's a queen bed in the middle, a tall dresser, and two stacks of books lining the wall near the window.

"There was no place to put my books, so…"

"Can you hear the waves from here?"

She opens the window. "I go to sleep listening to them every night."

I pay attention as they crash against the shore. "It's so peaceful."

Alex steps out of the room and gestures to her left. "Here's the bathroom. Again, super small."

I peek inside and notice there's only a shower. "I don't think I could live in a place without a bathtub."

"There's a hot tub on the deck, so when I feel like being immersed in hot water, I can get my fix."

I must've missed it when we entered the house. I follow her back into the living room. "This is a great place."

Not for the first time, I wonder where I'm going to sleep, and that's when my nerves make another appearance.

She moves into the kitchen. "Can I get you something to eat or drink?"

"I'm good, thanks." I stand in the entryway, allowing the breeze to hit me in the face as I take in the scent of salty air. "It smells like the ocean."

"I would hope so." She stands next to me, hands in her pockets. "Want to go for a walk?"

I nod. "I'd love that."

"Did you bring a jacket or something? It's colder than it looks down by the water."

"Only a cardigan."

"Wear this." She holds open an oversized, ivory sweater that looks like it was _made_ for long walks on the beach.

I sniff the collar. "It smells like you." I meant to keep that in my head.

She slips into a fleece jacket. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Good." I feel my cheeks heating up. "I like the way you smell."

She smiles as she waits for me to step outside before closing the door behind us. "I'm going to walk barefoot, but if you want to borrow some flip flops, feel free."

I remove my shoes. "Barefoot is good."

We make our way down near the water, and Alex was right, it's chilly but gorgeous.

"I can't believe you get to do this every day," I comment as we head north on the beach.

"I can, but I don't," she replies. "I try to take a walk every other day, but sometimes work gets in the way or the weather doesn't cooperate."

"Well, I'm glad we're taking advantage of a perfect day like this."

Her smile suggests she's thinking something that she doesn't reveal.

"So how does housing work when you move from city to city?" I ask.

"There's a logistics coordinator who handles housing, travel and local transportation," she begins. "After I'm assigned to a job, which is typically two to three weeks before I arrive, Carla sends me a few housing options. It's mostly apartments or extended stay hotels, but occasionally I have the opportunity to rent a furnished house."

I enjoy the feeling of the cool sand between my toes as I listen to her. I'm grateful for the way we're interacting right now—it's like we're getting comfortable with each other in a way that circumstances prevented when we first met.

"A lot of the options depend on where I'm working. If it's a city like Akron or Boise, it's easy to get a place for like $800 a month. My stipend is $1,000 a month, so I've actually made money on a deal like that," she continues. "I decided to splurge on the beach cottage since I don't know if or when I'll ever have the opportunity to live so close to the water again."

"I don't blame you." I watch two seagulls fight over a piece of kelp.

"Even though it's tiny, it's fucking expensive."

"I think it's worth it," I comment.

"I agree."

As a huge wave comes crashing in, the water reaches my feet and I let out a yelp and scurry to higher ground like a hermit crab.

Alex chuckles. "Did it get you?"

I stop and glance at the hem of my jeans. "Yeah, but it was kind of exhilarating."

She bends down and begins cuffing my jeans. "Roll them up so you they don't get wet next time."

It's such a simple act, but a feeling of elation courses through me. "Thanks."

She stands, brushing sand off her knee.

I continue walking. "Do you ever get tired of relocating?"

"Yeah, sometimes," she responds. "But then I think about where I want to settle down, and I haven't figured that out yet."

"Not Darien?"

She shakes her head and makes a little sound. "I'm generally not a fan of the suburbs. I grew up in Manhattan, did the whole drug cartel thing, and when I got released from prison, Darien was a more affordable city…plus I had a friend, Nicky, who already lived there and didn't charge me rent for like six months."

I stare up at her. "There's so much I don't know about you."

She gives me a soft smile. "Then ask."

I think back to a time when _asking_ was taboo. It makes me incredibly happy to know that I get to ask her whatever I want now.

"Ok…let's start with your childhood."

She sticks her hands in her pockets and tells me about living with her single mom who passed away several years ago. The story becomes more about her relationship with her mom than about her living situation, and it makes me sad that she lost such an important figure in her life.

"We should probably head back." She spins around and zips her fleece. "The sun is going to set soon, and it gets really cold down here after that."

It's only when she mentions heading back that I realize the sun is close to the horizon. We've walked at a nice, leisurely pace and I've lost all track of time.

"Tell me about _your_ childhood."

"Well, you already know about my senior year of high school—or at least how it ended."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I do."

I'm glad we don't dwell on that part. I'm sure if our relationship progresses, we're going to have to discuss the circumstances in which we met, but for now, I'd prefer to gloss over that time of my life. I tell her about my boring life in Connecticut as a child, a little about my family, and then move on to how much I enjoy living on my own in college.

By the time I finish talking, we're almost back at the cottage.

"I couldn't tell you the last time I watched the sunset," I say, stopping to face the ocean. "I've probably seen a dozen over the past year, but I don't remember where I was or who I was with."

She makes a little sound of agreement. "I can't say that I've appreciated them in the past like I do here. There's something magical about watching the sun disappear into the water."

I look up at Alex, whose eyes are fixed on the glowing orb sinking lower and lower by the second. "I'll never forget this one."

A strong gust of wind catches my hair, whipping it against my face and causing me to shiver.

"Cold?"

"It wouldn't be bad if it wasn't so windy," I comment, tugging the sweater tighter across my chest.

Alex moves behind and wraps her arms around me, and I feel like I could _die_. "Better?"

I place my hands over her arms. "Much better, thanks."

I watch the sun take its last breath before vanishing into the Pacific, then turn in her arms and wrap mine around her waist. I thought I'd be nervous if and when this moment arose, but a sense of calmness washes over me, and it just feels _right_. Alex places her hand on the side of my head, keeping wisps of hair from slapping my cheek, and her thumb caresses the spot just under my ear. I look up at her and swallow hard. If we don't kiss now, it's never going to happen.

As soon as she begins lowering her head, I crane my neck up to meet her lips. Every cell in my body springs to life as our lips touch gently at first, and then firmer. A feeling of elation pops like fireworks in my chest almost making me dizzy. Her left hand tangles in my hair before I can really process what's happening, and her other hand cups my cheek as she angles her head and kisses me deeper. I splay my hands on her back, tugging her closer—letting her know _I want this_. I've wanted it for so fucking long.

She nips at my lower lip a few times before resting her forehead against mine.

"A little better than the first time?" I ask.

"A lot better," she chuckles. "I couldn't really participate in that one."

I close my eyes. "I know."

Her lips press against mine again, and I deepen the kiss, this time gently pressing my tongue against her lips. Alex opens her mouth, allowing our tongues to touch a few times before rolling into a full open-mouthed kiss. The only thing I can compare the feeling to is that moment of tipsiness right before getting drunk where you're perfectly satisfied and giddy. I'm overwhelmed with joy.

She smirks when I whimper. "Let's go inside."

I nod, taking her hand as we walk up the beach to her cottage.

I enter the living room rubbing my hands together. "It's much warmer in here."

She closes the door, thrusting her hips against me until my back rests against it. Her eyes are dark and smoky as she leans in for another kiss. I run my fingers from her clavicle to her neck and finally settle on her cheek. The kiss becomes fervent within seconds, and my whole body reacts. The feeling of exhilaration still exists, but it's morphed into desire that I feel deep within me. Alex snakes her hands into the flaps of my sweater and grabs a fistful of fabric. I want her hands on my flesh.

I quickly shed the sweater, mouth never leaving hers, and as soon as the garment hits the floor, Alex's hands dip under the hem of my shirt. Her fingertips are cold against my skin, and if I had more sense, I'd probably be embarrassed by the needy moan that escapes my throat as she grins against my mouth. I rake my hands through her hair and try to concentrate on the way her warm mouth feels pressed against mine, but there's competition for my attention as her hands glide up my sides.

Everything around me is suddenly, irrevocably Alex—her hands, her mouth and her _fucking_ tongue. It's almost more than I can handle, yet I _have to_ touch her skin. I begin yanking the fleece off her shoulders and she wiggles out of it, letting it drop to the floor. My hands search for bare skin while my mouth remains latched onto hers. Our little sounds of pleasure mingle with the sounds of the waves crashing onto shore. I fumble with the hem of her blouse, trying to curl my fingers underneath and wonder how Alex did this to me so smoothly seconds ago. Her right hand returns to my cheek and she steps to the side, taking me with her. My calves hit the edge of the sofa, and I bend my knees and crash onto the cushion gracelessly. Alex uses the weight of her body to push me to an almost horizontal position, sticking her knee between my legs for leverage. Once I'm mostly flat on the sofa, she removes her lips from mine and looks down.

"Maybe I should ask…" she says cryptically through labored breaths.

I recognize my hurried breaths match hers. "Ask what?"

"Have you…" she trails off.

I raise my eyebrows. "Had sex?"

She nods, apprehension etched on her face.

My lips crack open. "I have."

Her face relaxes, but then she says, "I don't know if that makes me relieved or sad."

I give her a perplexed look. "Why would it make you sad?"

The passion we just shared is on pause as she sits on the sofa, stringing my legs over her lap. "I have no right to think this, but deep inside, I guess I wanted to be your first."

I'm taken aback. "Really?"

"It's stupid." She shakes her head as one hand caresses my jeans-clad knee. "I'm the one who pushed you away—and I _should_ have back then—so I shouldn't be bothered that you had relationships with other people."

"I've only had sex with one girl, and we weren't in a relationship." I sit up as best as I can in this position, legs still strewn across her lap. "If it's any consolation, I thought about you the whole time."

Her eyes snap to mine.

I feel a blush crawling up my neck. "When she…you know…I pictured _you_ doing that to me."

She looks down at her lap. "I'm sorry you couldn't be 'in the moment' that first time," she says with a hint of guilt. "We let this go on for a long time, and I'm mostly to blame."

"No one is to blame," I reply. "I was 17 when we first met. Yes, I wanted to be with you, but I understand why that couldn't happen. Don't blame yourself for waiting."

"I've struggled with how I felt about you for three years." Alex surprises me by getting to her feet. "It's consumed me."

Our moment of passion has gone from pause to full stop. I knew we'd eventually need to have this conversation, but I thought it could wait until _after_. I swing my legs over the cushion, sitting fully upright.

"I wouldn't allow myself to so much as _think_ about you back then, and, believe me, I tried like hell." She shakes her head. "Do you know how frustrating that was? To be nearing 30 years old and attracted to a high school student? I wondered if there was something wrong with me—if I was a pedophile or something."

"_Alex_…" I can see this is difficult for her to admit, and I hate hearing her blame herself. "You were _not_ a pedophile. Don't use that word."

She puts her hands on her hips and lets out a long breath through her nose as she stares at the ceiling.

"You didn't do anything wrong." I stand in front of her. "Look at me."

She looks into my eyes.

"You didn't do anything wrong," I repeat, taking her hand. "You pushed me away just as you should have. I hated it, but you have to know that you did the right thing."

"That feeling is going to stick with me for a while."

"You're the only one who has control of your feelings. You're a therapist—you know that." I take her other hand. "If you allow it to remain with you, it will." I pause. "More than_ three years_ have passed, Alex. We've kept in touch—gotten to know each other better over the course of time, and I'm not a kid anymore. We're free to explore what it feels like to be together."

She raises a hand to my cheek, rubbing her thumb against my jawline. "You've always been wiser than your years."

I give her a small smile, still caught up in the intensity of the moment. "You've given me space to make choices about who I am and who I want to be. Even though I would love to have been with you this whole time, I can say now that I appreciated that freedom." I squeeze her hand. "But you need to know, it's _always_ been you, Alex."

She closes the distance between us, placing a feathery-light kiss on my lips. "It's always been you," she whispers.

I've pictured having sex with Alex a million times, but never did I think it would be gentle the first time. I thought all my pent-up sexual frustration would ooze out and our first time would be rough and needy, but it's nothing like that—it's a million times better and almost like a well-rehearsed dance.

She leads me to her bedroom, removing my shirt and staring at my bra-clad chest. "You are _so_ fucking beautiful."

The way Alex looks at me is like nothing I've ever experienced. I feel like a prized work of art.

She unzips my jeans, and I step out of them. Her fingertips skim my stomach and ultimately reach the arc of my breast. I cover her hand with mine and stare into her eyes. She stands closer, one hand massaging my breast, the other resting low on my hip with her thumb ducking under the waistband of my underwear. She kisses me again, and I'm lost. If I were more coherent, I'd want to undress her and touch her like she's touching me, but I can't move—I'm completely under spell.

She unhooks my bra, letting the lacy material fall to the ground, then dips her head to suck on one nipple. I moan at the sensation of her warm mouth on my skin. Her hand lowers, two fingers rolling up and down my pussy over my thin, silky underwear. I know I'm wet, and I'm sure she can feel it. That's confirmed when she grins against my mouth. My senses are heightened; I've never felt this _wanted_ before.

I let my head fall back, and Alex's lips immediately scurry to my neck, bathing it with wet kisses. Her fingers slip in my underwear, and when one comes into direct contact with my clit, I moan. Again, I feel her smirking against me. She backs me up until I'm forced to lay on the bed, while she stares at me. One of my arms is flung over my head, the other rests by my side, and my stomach moves up and down with heavy, needy breaths.

Alex unhurriedly removes her own clothing, and my pulse quickens. I reach out to touch her, but she pushes me back down. Slowly, she crawls onto the bed, one knee bent between my legs, and resumes kissing me. Her kisses and her soft touch nearly drive me insane with desire, and I'm about to _beg her_ to touch me where I need it most. Before I speak, Alex moves my leg to the side, bending it at the knee, giving her more access to my center. She hovers over it, and her warm breath tickles my skin. She uses her thumb and index finger to open my pussy, then sticks the tip of her tongue on my clit. My hips buck up and a muted sound rumbles from my stomach to my throat. She does it again, then again, then again. When my hips refuse to stop moving, she uses her forearm to pin me in place as she licks me more fully.

I try to last longer than the couple of minutes—I _really_ do—but it's no use. I've wanted this for so long that there's no way I can prevent an orgasm. One more look at what she's doing to me, and I crumble into a thousand pieces as an orgasm takes over my body like I'm possessed. Alex doesn't relent—her tongue slows, but she keeps her mouth pressed against me until it subsides. Even then, she licks me slowly; softly.

"Ohmygod," is all I can mutter.

She crawls up my body, kissing a path up my stomach to my neck and ultimately to my lips.

I smile. "That was more than I hoped it would be."

"It was." Her smirk leads me to believe she's proud of what she's just accomplished.

We lie there for a moment, both leisurely touching each other as my breathing returns to normal.

Alex is the first to speak after a bout of silence. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Not as long as I have," I admit.

"Is it a competition?" she chuckles.

"No," I say, kissing whatever part of her face my lips can reach. "I should tell you…I've never done that to someone."

She lifts her head. "Done what?"

"Gone down on a girl."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't—"

I place a finger across her lips, effectively silencing her. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable—at least not with you."

I roll onto my side; it's my turn to bathe Alex's body with kisses and gentle touches. When I get to the apex of her thighs, I take in a big whiff. She still smells like vanilla and leather, but it's tangier down here, and I salivate at the thought of tasting her. With my first lick, I roll my tongue up her pussy and then back into my mouth. I do it a second, then a third time, enjoying the effect it's having on Alex just as much as the way she tastes. I can't believe I get to do this to the woman I've fantasized about for three fucking years.

Her hand glides up my forehead and into my hair, tugging it just a bit. "_Fuck_, Piper."

That makes me dive in with more gusto, fitting my whole mouth over her pussy, sucking and licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. I dip my tongue into her opening and am rewarded with a thin cream that I extract from her. I pull back and roll it around my mouth, relishing the viscosity and taste of her. It's then when I notice she's been watching me through hooded eyes. When I look up, she lets her head fall back but tightens her grip on my hair. I take that as my cue to continue, but she only lasts a few seconds before an orgasm takes over.

I love how forceful she bucks into me, and I have to use both hands to keep her in place. I don't want this pleasure to end for either of us.

She tosses her arm across her forehead. "_Fuck_."

"Was it ok?" I wipe my mouth on the sheets before lying next to her with my arm flung across her waist.

That causes her to laugh. "It was _much_ more than ok." She rotates her head and kisses me. "I figured sex with you would be good, but this was…"

"Terrific?"

"Terrific, fantastic, stupendous and every other word that means _really fucking good_."

I'm surprised at such high accolades. "Really?"

"Yes." She punctuates her statement with another kiss. "I don't know if I'm going to let you leave the bed this weekend."

"That would be fine with me," I say. "But I'd like just one more walk on the beach."

"If you insist," she sighs.


	11. Chapter 11

This chapter is another Rated M for Mature!

* * *

I wasn't pumping Piper's ego up when I mentioned how fabulous sex with her was. I don't remember having _that_ good of an experience in bed, and I've had a lot of sex. Maybe it's because I've wanted her for so long, but the experience exceeded my expectations. Whatever the reason, I'm thrilled with the way she responds to me as well as the way she makes me feel.

After four rounds of surprisingly gentle, dare I say _loving_ sex, our stomachs growl.

"Are you as hungry as I am?" she asks.

"Yeah." I swing my legs over the side of the mattress.

"Can I borrow a t-shirt or something?"

I open my dresser drawer, ready to pull out fresh underwear and a shirt for me. "Don't you have an entire suitcase of clothing?"

She wraps her arms around my waist from behind. "Yeah, but I want to wear something of yours."

I give her a hard time even though I love the thought of Piper wearing my clothes. "Here." I hand her a blue, long sleeved shirt. "Do you want underwear, too?"

"No. I'll grab sweats from my bag."

I shrug into a shirt and yoga pants, then take her hand to the kitchen. I peek inside the refrigerator. "I have stuff to make Caprese salads, grilled chicken breasts, deli meats and some Thai food from the other night."

She pulls out the white and red container, opens it and sniffs the contents. "Is this Khao Soi?"

"It is." I reach for another container. "I also have Pad Grapao."

She peeks over my shoulder. "Is that the one with minced pork and a fried egg?"

"Yeah."

"Yum." She sets the container on the counter. "Did you order dinner for two?"

I grin. "Are you asking if I had a guest over for dinner this week?"

Piper raises her shoulders, pretending to be the very picture of studied nonchalance. "Did you?"

"No," I chuckle, grabbing plates from the cupboard. "When I order takeout or delivery, I get enough for two meals. That usually means the delivery is free, plus it gives me enough to eat for two nights and sometimes even lunch the following day."

"Oh." She goes to her suitcase and slips into a pair of joggers. "Has anyone visited you?"

"No." I heat both containers in the microwave. "Nicky was going to come out for a long weekend, but she has yet to buy a plane ticket."

"That's too bad," Piper replies. "How much longer do you have the cottage?"

I toss two napkins and sets of chopsticks on the counter. "Until the end of the month."

She takes a seat. "That'll be here before you know it."

"I can't believe you're old enough to drink," I note, opening the fridge again. "But do you want water, wine or beer?"

"What kind of wine do you have?"

"Have you become a connoisseur?" I chuckle.

"I think it's called an _oenophile_," she replies. "I just don't like Sauvignon Blanc. Everything else is good."

"Let's see…I have a Pinot Gris in the fridge and a bottle of red over here." I move to the cabinet next to the sink. "It's an Argentinian Malbec."

"I'm good with either," she says. "Where will you go after Dana Point?"

"I don't know yet." I fill two glasses with white wine.

"I thought you said the company informs you about your next placement like three weeks in advance?" She takes one of the glasses. "Thank you."

I pull the containers out and start spooning the food onto plates. "My job at the clinic ends on October 25, so I decided to take off the last few days of the month and stay here until the lease expires on the 31st."

"Good idea."

I hand her one plate. "God only knows where I'll end up next."

"Can you put in a request?" She scoots to the other stool, allowing me to sit closer to the kitchen.

"Not yet." I blow on a noodle before popping it into my mouth. "The company I work for has only been around for a little over three years. I was the fourth and last counselor they hired until earlier this year." I take another bite. "Word has gotten around about the business model, and the CEO is overwhelmed with the demand for licensed counselors all over the country."

"Are they planning to hire more therapists?" Piper takes a bite. "This is delicious by the way."

"Good." I blow on the Khao Soi. "We've doubled in size since I started, which still only means there's eight of us, but from what I've heard, they plan to hire another two or three people before the end of this year."

"It's an interesting model." She sips her wine. "But I bet it would be difficult to find people who want to relocate every six to eight weeks."

"That's the biggest challenge," I say. "All of the people who work for the company are single."

"Makes sense." She slurps the soup. "I can't imagine having a spouse or children and moving around that much."

"Exactly." I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "They're talking about moving to a regional model where we'd have a therapist or two, say in New England, that way wherever you're placed, you aren't too far from your home base."

"That would be nice."

"I've also heard that some of the counselors who started before me are getting to choose between cities," I state. "If that becomes a thing, maybe I'll be able to pick places closer to home."

Piper smiles. "That would work out well for me."

"Me, too," I admit, brushing her shoulder with mine as I get up.

She helps me clean the dishes, and then we move to the living room.

"How do you usually spend your evenings?"

"If it's nice like tonight, I open the door, listen to music, write some notes from my sessions earlier in the day…" I connect my speaker to my phone and choose a downtempo playlist. "I usually go online and check what's going on in the world, and then read a book before going to sleep." I crack the door open, then make sure the volume is low enough to still hear the ocean waves.

She tucks her legs under her on the couch. "Sounds like a perfect night."

"It's much better with you here." I kiss her before sitting on the sofa, stringing her legs over my lap just as I did earlier. I still can't believe that Piper is here, in my house, and that we've had sex—_fantastic_ sex at that. It's going to take a while for all this to fully register.

"What do you usually do at night?"

"I eat dinner around 7, do homework for a couple hours, then go for a run or yoga class." She bends her elbow on the arm of the sofa and props her head up. "After that, sometimes I hang out with friends or go to some event or another on campus. Last week Jeffrey Eugenides did a two-night lecture series."

"The author of _The Virgin Suicides_?"

She nods. "We get some interesting speakers at Smith. Earlier this semester, we had Meryl Streep and Helen Sharman."

"Isn't she the British astronaut who thinks there are aliens in space?"

"Yeah," she responds. "I was skeptical at first, but she claims that these alien beings may not be made of carbon and nitrogen like humans, but rather of materials unseen by the human eye. I left the lecture feeling like it's plausible."

"You think there are aliens among us?" I chuckle, rubbing her calf.

"Not like the little grey creatures you see in movies." She raises her shoulders. "But there's so much we don't know about space. I guess theoretically, there could be life someplace other than on earth."

I make a nostalgic sound. "Makes me wish I'd had a more traditional college experience."

She places her hand over mine. "I'm sorry you didn't."

"Don't be." I lace my hands in her hair. "I made choices that could've totally fucked up my life."

"Tell me about those choices—those times before prison."

I let out a long breath, craning my neck back as I recall my time with Kubra and his thugs. "I haven't thought about my days in the cartel in a long time."

"It's still bizarre to me that you worked for a drug ring," she says. "I can't picture you doing illegal stuff."

I chuckle. "I was all about the money back then."

"Because you grew up without much?"

I nod. "Going from almost nothing to raking in over six figures at the ripe age of 20 was a lot for me to handle." I sip my wine. "You read about these NBA players who grew up poor, and then get a multi-million dollar contract to play basketball when they're like 18. No wonder they sometimes mismanage their money—they never learned how to handle having that much cash."

"I never really thought about it."

"There should be a money management class for any professional athlete." I twist my body towards her. "I'm not saying someone should tell them what to do with their money, but they should at least learn about options for investing and stuff."

She rubs my arm. "I love the way your mind works."

I let out a light laugh. "I don't know why I shared that with you."

"I'm glad you did." She swings her legs off my lap. "Mind if I bring the bottle of wine over here?"

I drain my glass. "Please."

She gets up as the song changes to something a little sultrier. "This music makes me kind of horny."

I snort at her comment. "This is my chill playlist not my_ I want to fuck you _playlist."

"Do you have an _I want to fuck you_ playlist?"

I reach for the bottle, pouring each of us a glass. "No."

"Maybe we can make one. We can share songs through Apple Music or Spotify," Piper suggests.

"Then all I'm going to want to do when I listen to them is want to have sex with you," I admit.

She shrugs. "We'll have phone sex."

I laugh. "Have you ever had phone sex?"

She sits back down. "No, but it could be fun."

I lean over and place a string of kisses up her neck, still chuckling. "If you say so."

She tilts her head. "Have you?"

"Yes," I respond. "But I'm sure it'll be better with you. The two times I tried were awful."

She grabs my hand, pulling it onto her lap. "How so?"

"I wasn't really into the women in the first place," I say. "Even real sex with them wasn't very good."

"Have you had sex with a lot of women?" She takes a sip.

I tread carefully with this one. I don't want to lie, but I also don't want to scare her. "I've had my fair share, but my promiscuity was mostly in my younger years."

"What about over the last three years?"

I really don't want to engage in this conversation. Again, I proceed with caution. "I don't know…maybe six or seven."

She arches her brows. "Six or seven women?"

I definitely won't tell her about my days in the cartel when I slept with a different woman every couple of weeks. "Piper, you and I weren't a couple—we couldn't be. Please don't hold that against me."

"It's like what you were saying earlier—you didn't know whether to be glad or sad that I'd had sex with someone else," she replies. "You're like lesbian catnip."

"I'm _what_?" I chuckle.

She folds her arms and pouts.

"Neither of us knew if we'd ever be together." I set my glass on the coffee table. "I didn't want to live my life in a bubble, sitting around waiting for this to _finally_ happen, and I didn't expect you to wait either. You had other relationships, too, so don't pin this all on me."

"I'm not pinning anything on you." She recovers quickly. "And I'm incredibly happy that we've finally kissed. I just don't like the thought of you touching other women is all."

"I don't like that thought either!" I shake my head, and then remember the time I saw her with Zelda at Lombardi's. If ever there was a time to mention it, it's now. I struggle internally with how to bring it up, but then ultimately decide just fucking say it. "I saw you with another woman once."

"You _saw_ me?" She knits her brows. "When?"

"In Darien," I respond. "I was eating dinner at Lombardi's, and you were there with that redhead, Zelda I think was her name."

She looks stunned. "We were in the same restaurant?"

"It looked like you were on a date." I raise my shoulders. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"You and I had been in touch, Alex; we talked about visiting each other," she continues with a perplexed look. "You didn't want to at least say hi?"

"I didn't want to confirm that you were dating her," I say in a heated tone as I get to my feet. "You and I were making progress, getting to know each other outside of the whole counselor/client thing, and if I found out that you'd been with _Zelda_ that whole time, it would've…" I pause before I say _crushed me_ and decide to use a different word. "…affected me." I stiffen at the very thought of Zelda getting to touch Piper in a way that I couldn't for all these years.

"I never dated Zelda! Even in high school, we went out _once_." She shakes her head and lifts her shoulders. "We stayed in touch and saw each other occasionally, but the reason we went to Lombardi's that night was that she'd just gotten engaged. We were celebrating that."

Well, _fuck_. "Oh…I didn't know."

"You would've known if you would've approached me." She scoffs.

My stomach flips. I've waited so long to hear this news, but now I feel like a coward for not finding out about Zelda sooner. People have called me many names in the past, but coward has never been among them.

"Even if you were afraid to approach me in the restaurant, couldn't you have asked me about Zelda in a text?" Piper continues.

"We never talked about relationships or other people," I reply. "I figured if you wanted to tell me about her, you would've."

"I didn't mention other women because _you_ never brought it up!" She stands in front of me. "I didn't want to know about the women you were with anyway. All I cared about was moving time—getting old enough for you to notice me."

I rake a hand through my hair, stopping mid-motion. "You don't think I _noticed_ you? My God, Piper, I thought about you all the fucking time! I hated that you consumed my thoughts even when you were my client! How do you think it felt to be attracted to someone I couldn't be with?"

She crosses her arms and juts a leg out. "I could write a book on the subject."

I let out a long breath and study her for a moment. "You have no idea how jealous I was when I saw you with her."

"You were jealous about _me_? Alex, I've never thought about other people the way I think about you." Her hand lands on my hip. "And I never liked Zelda or any other woman the way I liked—the way I _like_—you."

My shoulders relax a bit. "No?"

She shakes her head. "Mmm mmm."

I hook a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

She leans forward and kisses me softly. I place my hand on her neck, pulling her closer and angling my face to deepen the kiss. We makeout long enough for me to feel wetness gather between my legs, but then Piper stops.

"You were going to tell me about your time in the drug cartel."

I grin, wiping her glistening lip. "You'd rather talk than do _this_?"

"We have all night and all day tomorrow to fuck," she says, hand on my chest. "Tell me about your luxurious past life."

I lift one brow and press my hand against her center. "Say _fuck_ again."

Piper has quite an impressive smirk. "_Fuck_."

"Mmm…" I can't help myself. My tongue invades her mouth, and as I move my hand up and down her pussy, and she arches into me. "We can talk about my felonious life later. Right now, I'm going to have my way with you."

I glance at her face long enough to watch desire take over, then I pull her leggings off, rotate my hips slowly, and use my thigh to spread her hips apart. I tug at her shirt, indicating I want it off. She yanks it over her head, revealing her perky little boobs. I rub my palm over one of them, kneading rhythmically until Piper juts her hips up again and moans at my touch.

Sex this time will be nothing like it was in my bed. I'm glad it was so soft and loving the first time, but now my carnal desire has flared up.

"Mouth or fingers?" I ask, inserting one finger into her opening as if I've already made the choice.

"Both," she answers.

I didn't expect that response, but I'm thrilled nevertheless. I work my finger in and out of her pussy, wondering if I've ever been with a woman so tight. _I want to be inside of her_. I scoot lower on the sofa until my mouth hovers above her bare pussy. I noticed the first time we did this that she was shaved clean, but I didn't have time to appreciate it. I insert a second finger, causing her to moan while continuing to marvel at her body—all of it. I can't believe I finally get to touch her. That thought alone makes me wet.

I lower my head, taking a slow lick of her center, and Piper nearly comes undone. Her eyes flutter shut as she flings an arm above her head. I lick her again, again, and again all while twisting two fingers inside.

She stares down at what I'm doing to her. "I'm not going to last long, Alex."

I suck her nub into my mouth and insert one more finger, but she's too tight to get it all the way in.

I begin to remove it, but she covers my hand. "Don't. I want to feel you inside me."

I remove my mouth and alternate between staring into her eyes and watching my fingers glide in and out of her dripping wet pussy. Her hips start moving, matching my thrusts now that all three fingers are buried deep inside of her. She looks down at what I'm doing with craving and wonder in her eyes.

Her head falls back and an orgasm thunders through her. She's not quiet; in fact, she's _very_ loud, and I love that I've made her feel so good.

When the orgasm subsides, Piper still has a sense of marvel in her eyes. "That was…"

"Yes?" I arch one brow.

"I've never felt anything like it."

I slowly retract my fingers that are covered with her juices, loading them all into my mouth.

She pulls me towards her and shoves her tongue in my mouth, surely tasting herself on me.

After expending so much energy with her orgasm, I didn't think she'd have the strength to turn us completely around, forcing me lie beneath her. She doesn't waste time taking my shirt and yoga pants off; rather, she snakes a hand under my shirt until it finds my left breast. Judging by the way she grips and massages it, I think she likes playing with my tits. Piper balances her arm on my stomach while still rubbing my breast, and her other hand trails into my pants. She roughly grabs my pussy, inserting a finger and motioning it up and down until she seems satisfied that there's enough wetness to please her.

Although the angle seems impossible, she's able to insert two fingers inside me and twist them just like I did to her moments ago. My hips arch off the sofa and start moving to match her fingers. She leans forward, kissing me deep and wet, and I'm amazed at how skilled she is at multitasking.

"I'm gonna…" I burst into a frenzied orgasm, seeing stars as it rocks me to the core. Her fingers are slick inside of me, and I focus on how good it feels, prolonging my orgasm.

Finally, I come down from the high and open my eyes to see Piper staring at me.

"Was that ok?" she asks.

I'm almost too weak to laugh, but I let out a solid chuckle. "Fuck, yeah."

She retracts her fingers, popping them into her mouth. "I never knew if I'd like the way a woman tastes."

"And?"

"I love the way _you_ taste." She kisses me. "I never want to do this with anyone else."

That's a profound statement. It causes me to think ever so briefly about our future, and I don't know what that might look like. This is yet another conversation I was hoping to put off for another time, but since she lobbed it out there, now is the best time to address it.

"You're just beginning to explore what it feels like to be with a woman," I say. "Let's not talk about forever yet."

Piper gives me a look that's stuck somewhere between surprise and disappointment. "I've kissed a few women, had sex with one, and I've been in a couple of relationships. Don't act like I'm a kid who doesn't know what I want."

I hand her leggings to her. "I don't think of you as a kid—at least not anymore."

She pulls them on, then reaches for her shirt.

"I wouldn't be with you if I thought you weren't mature enough to handle sex with an older woman," I finish.

Piper shrugs into her shirt. "Are you suggesting this is a fling?"

"No," I let out a short, mildly uncomfortable laugh. "It's not a fling, but I don't know that it's permanent."

Her face contorts, and I worry she might cry.

"Why do we have to define what this is when we've only just kissed a few hours ago?" I ask.

She turns fully towards me. "Do you want to be with me?"

I've known for a while that I wanted to be intimate with Piper, but I haven't allowed myself to get much further than getting to that point. "Yeah."

"Then let's discuss that. Please don't dismiss my feelings for you."

"I never dismissed your feelings, Piper. I just think it's premature to talk about you and me riding off into the sunset."

"I've wanted to be your girlfriend since we first met." She swallows hard. "I thought those feelings might dissipate over time, but they've only gotten stronger. Now that I've finally had the chance to kiss you; to touch you, I have no doubt you're the person I want to be with, Alex."

Her statement doesn't surprise me, but I still marvel at her conviction.

"I'd love to think there's nothing but smooth sailing ahead, but I'm not naive. I haven't graduated from college yet, and you're still moving all over the country every few months," she continues. "I'd like to take a stab at being together even with things the way they are now."

When I've thought about Piper over the years, it hasn't been in terms of a partnership or coupling. In fact, I've spent much of the time trying _not_ to have feelings for her. I never allowed myself to think about a future together. I've enjoyed getting to know her better over the years, so why wouldn't I be open to continuing that while also being intimate with her?

I run my hand down the back of her head. "I'm open to seeing where this goes."

A smile barely registers on her face. "Yeah?"

"Yes," I answer. "But I never want to hold you back. If you find someone in college who you'd like to date, I want you to do that. I know you don't like hearing this, Piper, but you're still so young. I want you to experience everything you can while you're in college, and that includes dating people you're attracted to."

She places both hands on my face and looks me in the eye with such intensity that there's no way I could glance away. "I want you, Alex. _Only you_. That's never going to change."

"Maybe you're right," I say honestly. "But I'm not putting limitations on this."

She removes her hands and looks a bit stunned. "Are you saying you want to see other people, so I should do the same?"

"I spent the better part of my 20s in and out of relationships. I've lived more than a decade longer than you," I explain. "I'm not searching for anyone else. I know what I want in a partner."

"What is that?" She folds her arms.

"Someone who can have conversations about important as well as trivial things; someone who listens carefully yet contributes greatly; someone who's driven and focused but who knows how to have fun," I continue ticking off attributes off the top of my head. "I want her to be confident but not afraid to ask for help; someone who appreciates how important my career is to me and who doesn't try to change who I am."

Suddenly it dawns on me—_Piper is all those things_. Her age is the only thing holding me back. I worry that if we stay together, she'll wonder what she missed out on.

"I won't suggest I fit the bill for all of those qualities," she says in a voice laced with disappointment. "So, if you want to date other people and see where this goes, I'm not going to stand in your way."

"You _do_ have those qualities, Piper," I admit, pulling her arm until she uncrosses them. "I'm just concerned you'll have regrets if you don't allow yourself to explore new relationships for a few more years."

"Don't worry about that kind of stuff, Alex." She shakes her head. "If someone comes along a month from now or five years from now who either of us is attracted to, we'll face it together, but I don't want to live my life with the expectation that you're not enough—like I _should _be searching for someone else." She pauses. "No one can be 100 percent certain that the person they're with is who they'll be with forever, but the closer they get and the more trust they establish, the more likely they'll stay together."

I grin. "How are you this wise as a fucking 21-year-old?"

She issues a small smile. "You wouldn't be with me if I weren't."

She's right. I would never consider getting into a relationship with someone whose intellect, curiosity, maturity and drive didn't match my own. It's just taken a while for me to realize Piper checks all those boxes and then some.

"I'm glad we've stayed in touch over the years." I rub her wrist. "And the more I learn about you—the more I watch you grow into an adult—the more attracted I've become." I let out a brief, disbelieving laugh. "Never did I think we'd get to this moment." I look into her eyes. "I _do_ want to be with you, Piper."

Her face lights up as she reaches for me, placing a lingering kiss on my mouth. "I want that, too."

"Then let's do this, babe." I try that word out on her and watch her lips tug up even higher.

We kiss again, this time with less urgency and more assurance. I lie behind her on the sofa, holding her against me as we listen to the waves crash against the shore. Piper might be young, but I'm done denying what she has come to mean to me. I want to be with this woman, and I'm going to show her starting right now.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you've enjoyed the difficult conversations I've had the characters have in the last two chapters. I contemplated having them talk about these serious matters down the road, but in my mind, they really do want to give a full-fledged relationship a try, and they can't do that without getting a few things off their minds, especially Alex. I also felt the need to underline Piper's level of maturity to offset the age difference. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

Although I'm prone to hyperbole, I can't help but feeling like our first night together transformed my world; I didn't think sex could do that to a person. Although I've dreamed about this moment for years and even willed it to be so, I never trusted that it would actually happen. I knew that if we ever got to this point, the conversations we'd need to have wouldn't be easy, but they'd be necessary.

I could sense Alex's attraction to me when we first met, and that feeling ebbed and flowed as time moved on, but I never once thought she didn't like me. The closest I came to that thought was when she left the pizza parlor with fury that summer before I entered college. I felt dejected then—like my hopes and dreams ended on that sweltering day, melting into the asphalt like an abandoned ice cream sandwich.

We lie on the sofa together for nearly an hour, holding, touching and kissing each other but not saying much. During those bouts of silence, all I can hear is the tick of a clock and the ocean waves crashing onto shore. I glance out the window, pupils dilating as I regard the thin glaze created by the salty ocean air on the windowpane. I take in a big sniff of the air around me, not surprised that it smells fresh like the sea with a hint of sunshine. I also take in the faint tang of sex in the air, which causes me to grin. This moment isn't about sex (though Alex is so, _so_ good); rather, it's about wordlessly committing to each other. All my senses are heightened as I pay attention to every caress, every look she gives me. Although the word _love_ hasn't entered our vocabulary yet, I swear I can see it in her hooded eyes.

After having enough silence I ask, "What was your first impression of me?"

It takes Alex a moment to figure out where my thoughts are. "You mean when we met?"

I nod against her arm.

"I was your therapist." She shifts a little behind me, and I wonder if my question makes her ill at ease. "I thought you were bright, well-spoken, remorseful...maybe a little too cool."

"Too cool?" I laugh.

"You were a senior in high school." She shrugs. "At the top of the food chain in terms of adolescence, and that was apparent the first time we met. Eventually I got to see the real you."

I twist my neck to look at her. "Did you think I was cute?"

She chuckles. "A little gangly, but cute."

"When did you become attracted to me?"

"You're just full of questions, aren't you?"

"I'm a curious person," I answer.

Her head tilts as she processes my question. "There wasn't a singular moment, really. It just happened. I tried to fight it—I really did—but there was something about you, _things_ about you…I wanted to get to know you better."

I lie flat on my back so I can look up at her.

"All those things I mentioned that I want in a partner are things you already have." She props her head in her hand. "It was hard for me to acknowledge that back then. Like, how could a fucking 18-year-old be a match for me, you know?"

I nod, tucking a falling chunk of dark hair behind her ear.

"Was there a moment when something clicked?"

She ponders my question. "I mean, I thought about you a lot during your first year of college, but I still couldn't define my feelings. It's not like I got to know you really well outside of our counseling sessions. There was just something about you that intrigued me."

I continue listening.

"When we ran into each other in the grocery store, I had this weird feeling of wanting you back in my life. I didn't know what it meant or how we'd handle it, but I saw you, and…" She rubs the indent just below my ear. "I couldn't let you leave without knowing we could stay in touch."

"That surprised me—you asking me to catch up."

Her lips turn up. "It surprised me, too. It's not like I'd planned what I'd say if we ever ran into each other."

I remain silent for a second, thinking back to that day at Stanley's Market. I had no idea that one, five-minute conversation would be the spark to eventually having _this_.

"Can we talk about when I kissed you in your office?" I ask, skating my thumb across her jawline. "Or is that off limits?"

She lets her head fall back and sighs while reaching forward, fingers wiggling. "Will you hand me my wine?"

I reach for her glass.

"That was bad." She takes a sip. "You shouldn't have done it, and I definitely shouldn't have allowed it even for the three or four seconds that it lasted."

"I'm sorry for putting you in that situation," I confess. "It wasn't fair."

"No, it wasn't." Her face is all seriousness. "Not only was kissing me bad, but it was in my professional workplace. I was really upset back then."

"At me?"

"At you _and_ at myself," she laments. "It took me a long time to process that moment."

I place my fingers on her cheek and turn her head until she meets my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know." She kisses the tip of my nose. "Seems like ages ago now."

"It does."

We lay there in silence again, and I feel my eyes starting to flutter shut. I'm exhausted. I adjust on the couch again, and Alex sets her glass down and spoons me. Before I know it, I'm asleep. It isn't until I feel something poking my side when I wake up startled.

"Piper?"

"Hmm?"

"It's 2:30 in the morning." She crawls over me from the back of the sofa. "Let's go to bed."

I take Alex's hand as she leads me to the bedroom and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up to the sound of waves crashing and it takes me a moment to realize where I am. Alex is behind me, one arm loosely draped over my hip. I smile so hard it makes a sound. I slowly, carefully turn towards her and watch her sleep. I've thought she was gorgeous the first time I met her, but I'm not sure she's ever looked as beautiful as she does right now. Her face is relaxed, lips parted slightly and hair covering one cheek. It's almost unfathomable to think she wants to be with me after all these years.

I rest my head on the pillow and let out a content sigh as I listen to Alex's breath mingled with the ocean waves. I could live here, I think. The thought of moving away from the Northeast has never crossed my mind. I've always thought I'd live in Boston, New York or some other sprawling city on the East Coast, but never have I thought about moving across the country to a beach community. I realize I'm jumping the gun, but what if that could happen? Not that Alex is here permanently. I want to be wherever she is, but it sure would be nice if it was near the ocean.

"Mmm." She stirs, rolling onto her side. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Because I can." I rub her bare arm.

She stretches, blinking her sleepiness away and letting out a soft laugh.

"I never thought I'd see the day."

"Same." She smiles. "How long have you been awake?"

"Only a few minutes."

She kisses me. "I can't believe I get to do that."

"Kiss me?"

She nods, and I kiss her again with a little more gusto. That leads to multiple rounds of sex before we leave the house that day.

* * *

We spend the day going for a long walk on the beach, strolling through the main part of town, and eating lunch at an authentic Mexican taco stand. As we're walking in public, Alex draws attention. Even in ripped jeans and a faded t-shirt, people are taken by her beauty. I watch men crane their necks when she passes and even a few women do a double take. I laugh silently at the jolt of jealousy that surfaces within me, then I realize _she's mine_.

We arrive back at Alex's cottage, and my eyes are fading. I didn't sleep much last night, but I'm not complaining.

I cover my mouth with a bent arm. "Can we take a nap?"

My yawn must be contagious as she mimics it. "Yeah." She takes my hand, leading us to the bedroom just like she did last night. Alex pulls the covers back, allowing me to slip in first. She enters right behind me, snaking one arm under my pillow, the other tossed haphazardly over my hip.

I wake up some time later with my head burrowed in Alex's chest. "Are you awake?"

"Kind of," she replies in a sleep-induced voice.

"I really like your boobs."

I feel laughter rumble in her body before hearing it come out as a muffled snicker.

I begin squeezing them gently and feel Alex's hips roll in my direction. I take that as a sign that she'd like more, so I snake my hand under her top, feeling her voluptuous breast and taut nipple. I start out slowly and methodically not doing any more than playing with her tits until I feel her hand on the back of my head, words of encouragement unnecessary.

It isn't until close to dinnertime when we surface from the bedroom. If I stay horizontal any longer, I'm going to get bedsores.

"Wine?" She asks as she saunters into the kitchen, pulling down two wine glasses before I acquiesce.

"Yeah." I lean against the kitchen counter. "When I get back to Northampton, I'm going to start applying to grad schools."

"Have you thought about where you want to go?"

"I was mostly focused on programs in the Northeast, but now I'm considering California," I reply.

She arches her eyebrows. "Really?"

"I love it out here." I take in a deep breath of salty air. "I can't believe this is my first time."

"You're experiencing it as a tourist," Alex responds, sliding a wine glass across the counter. "I'm not sure how much you'd enjoy living here."

I shrug. "What's there not to like?"

She taps her glass against mine, then makes her way to the living room. "There's the threat of earthquakes, terrible traffic, crowded neighborhoods, immigration issues, state budget cuts…"

"True," I admit. "But there's also the beach, the sunshine and a more casual way of life. I'm not saying I'll definitely move out here, but I'd like to apply to a few programs to keep my options open."

She sips her wine. "Are you thinking English or psychology for grad school?"

"After the Psi Chi conference, I want to focus on psychology," I say.

She grins. "It's a good profession."

"What about you? Are you going to keep doing the temporary therapist coverage thing?"

She opens a window. "It depends."

"On what?" I lift my glass to my mouth.

"On you—on _us_."

The thought of Alex deciding where to work based on our relationship sends my heart soaring.

She sits on the sofa. "I wouldn't mind living in the same city to see how we manage a relationship without thousands of miles between us."

I sit next to her. "I'd like that."

"So, maybe when you find out where you're going to graduate school, I can look for a job in the area."

I reach for her, lacing my fingers in her dark hair. "Would you do that?"

She shrugs. "The whole moving around thing is getting old. I wouldn't mind being in one place for a while."

I nuzzle my nose against her head. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

Alex twists her neck, kissing me. "I like making you happy."

We spend the rest of the evening talking, kissing, having sex a few more times, and then falling asleep on the sofa just like we did the night before. Once again, Alex wakes me after midnight and leads me to her bed. I could get used to this.

* * *

My heart is in my throat as I drive Piper to the train station the next morning so she can get to San Diego in time for her afternoon flight. I never thought the weekend would turn out _so fucking perfect_, which makes leaving her that much more difficult.

I kiss her temple as we stand hand in hand in front of the train station. "Promise to call me after you get through airport security."

She nods, and I watch her chin quiver. I wonder if she's afraid to speak for fear of bursting into tears.

"I'm going to look at flights to visit you as soon as I get back home," I say, kissing her on the cheek. "It'll either be the first or second weekend of November."

She pulls me into a fierce embrace, and I feel dampness on my shoulder.

"Don't cry, babe." I cradle her head in my hands. "You're going to make _me_ cry."

She lets out a wet laugh. "I didn't think it would be this hard to say goodbye."

I allow a chaste kiss to linger on her lips, stalling our inevitable parting.

An announcement comes over the loudspeaker indicating that Piper's train is boarding.

"We'll talk later, ok?"

She nods again, tears cascading down her cheeks. I hate seeing her like this.

"You have to go, Piper." I squeeze her hands one last time, then step back. "Have a safe trip, babe."

"Thank you for everything," she manages to choke out. "I'll text from my seat."

I give her the best smile I can muster, hyper-conscious about keeping my expression positive. I fear if I so much as blink, I'll be a blubbering mess.

Piper walks away, and once she's through the main door, she turns around and waves. I hold up my hand, then I go back to my car still fighting back tears. No sooner am I in the driver's seat than a burst of sadness washes over me. I'm thankful Piper didn't see me like this—she might've delayed her flight or decided never to go back. I allow myself five minutes of crying, then wipe my eyes, prepared to drive home and figure out how soon I can see her again.

* * *

Author's Note: This marks the end of Act II. The final act is longer than both the other ones. This was one of those chapters when I could _see_ the characters and their surroundings, so I hope it came across as vividly as I intended. As always, thank you ever so much for leaving reviews!


	13. Chapter 13

Before I look at plane tickets to visit Piper in Northampton, I send an e-mail to the placement coordinator at the company I work for, asking if there are any temp jobs in the Northeast, specifically in Massachusetts. I don't expect to hear from her until tomorrow at the earliest, so I have to hold out hope that something will come along that would allow me to set up shop closer to Piper.

In order for us to know if our relationship will work, we have to live near each other. There's something romantic about a long distance relationship to be sure, but it's not reality. When we see each other for a few days, it'll be swell times as we cherish every moment of togetherness. If we live in the same area, that will give us a better idea of how we exist as a normal couple.

Piper still has seven months of college; she can't relocate. She's required to live on campus all four years, so it's not like she has the same mobility as I do. It'll be interesting to see where she's admitted to grad school. Until then, I decide to continue working for my company with hopes of my next three or four placements being closer to her.

I reflect on our time together and marvel at how things worked out. Though I had my doubts leading up to Piper's trip to Southern California, I was confident we'd at least be amiable. I knew she had a crush on me when she'd just graduated from high school, so unless she was in a serious relationship, I figured there was a good chance we'd share a kiss; however, I didn't know where it would go from there. The sex was phenomenal, but so were our discussions. Talking about important, _vital_ stuff like our past or Zelda or where we go from here required maturity on both our parts, and Piper rose to the occasion. I've never questioned her maturity, but this weekend proved that we're compatible in every area despite our age. It also confirmed that I want to take a stab at this. I haven't felt this way about another woman in a long time…well, ever, really. The thought of being in a relationship used to make me anxious—like if I dated someone exclusively, I'd be trapped and lose my identity. That's not how this thing with Piper feels. I feel more open and trusted and confident than I've ever felt before. More importantly and utterly surprising, I feel like I've met my match—my equal.

After eating a quick lunch, I do an Internet search for flights and find a relatively inexpensive one for Veteran's Day weekend. It's not like money is an issue for me—I don't spend even close to half of what I make, so I have quite a bit saved. I can fly Piper out to see me or I can visit her every month for the duration of her time in college and not have to worry about finances.

My phone rings, and I smile when I hit the green button. "Made it through security?"

"Hi." I can hear her smiling.

"How was the train ride?" I pour myself a glass of water.

"Just as pretty as the journey up here, but I wasn't in the same mood."

"I know." I take a sip of water. "The good news is I've found a plane ticket for the second weekend in November."

"To Northampton?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"I guess I can hold out another month to see you," she sighs and then pauses. "Wait, where would you be flying from? I thought your lease on the cottage was up at the end of the month?"

"Fuck." How could I not have thought of that? "I never thought about that. I don't even know where I'll be working."

"Could you take some time off and go to Darien? The drive to Smith isn't bad from there."

"I guess so." I'm dumbfounded that I didn't have the wherewithal to think this through. I suppose I'm so caught up in wanting to move time forward that I forgot I don't have a 'home' airport. "I sent an e-mail to my company, asking if there are any temporary job placements in the Northeast. If I can even get something four or five hours away, I'd take it."

"That would be nice."

I hear an announcement over a loudspeaker.

"I should probably go. They're going to start boarding my flight, and I need to go to the bathroom and stuff."

"I'll keep you posted about everything, but let's plan to see each other that weekend no matter what."

"Definitely."

I smile. "Safe travels."

"Thanks, Alex."

We hang up, and I'm glad she wasn't crying. Leaving her was painful enough—if she was still super sad, it would make me want to get on the next flight to be with her.

I sit in a chair on my deck and continue thinking about how we got to this place—how much time has passed, how we stayed in touch, how little Piper has changed over the years. Don't get me wrong, she's more mature, more educated and more reflective, but she's essentially the same girl I was attracted to three years ago. I would never want to go back and do this all over again. The waiting and the uncertainty about how our relationship would play out was agonizing. We're nowhere near the solid couple I hope we'll one day be, but at least we've laid out somewhat of a path to get there.

The cool air hits me in the face, and I close my eyes, picturing what life would be like with Piper beside me every day. I'd come home from work to find her reading in this very chair on the deck. I'd breeze by, kissing her on my way to change into more casual clothes. She'd ask me about my day while pouring each of us a glass of white wine, and we'd talk casually from one room to the other. I'd eventually join her on the deck as we sipped wine and discussed how she spent her day. I could get used to days like that.

I open my eyes and stare at the ocean and a thought dawns on me like a gentle breeze: being with Piper brings me such joy. I love the sound of her voice; pretty much everything that comes out of her mouth; the way she laughs; the way she processes thoughts; the way her body responds to mine…I had no idea if we'd ever be intimate, but I'm thrilled that we did. I think about all the times we had sex over the weekend, counting at least 11 or 12, depending on how I look at it. Come to think of it, my pussy is a little tender and my forearm is sore; it almost makes me blush.

When the chill in the air is too much to handle, I return to my living room and decide to put in a couple hours of work. I haven't written notes yet from my Friday clients, so it's high time I get my ass in gear before Monday arrives.

* * *

If I thought leaving Alex was difficult the summer after my first year of college, this time it's vicious. I know my friends think I've had a juvenile crush on my former therapist, but it's so much more than that. They say I'll eventually go back to boys, but if push comes to shove, I'll tell them how much I love Alex's pussy—that I get turned on more than ever when my tongue is buried inside of her folds. (I would never say that to them, but I'd sure like to.) I raise my hand a few inches from my mouth and blow into it, sniffing the air quickly in hopes that my breath still smells like her. It doesn't, and I laugh at myself for thinking (wishing) it might.

I find myself sulking and only doing what's required of me when I get back to school. I say 'no' to every invitation to study, to exercise, to hang out with friends, and to go to a Smith volleyball game against our rival college. It takes a whole week for me to return to some semblance of my normal self, thanks to Polly, who reminds me I'm one week closer to seeing Alex.

I didn't know how supportive Polly would be about my relationship with my former therapist, but she's been far more empathetic and thoughtful than I anticipated. She was the first person I told about my crush on her three years ago, and while she considered it _weird and a little icky_ when I was 18, she admires the fact that nothing happened between us until recently. She also didn't think Alex would carry a torch for me for so long when, as I've told her, she's any lesbian's wet dream. I've shown her a few photos of Alex, and she surprisingly agrees that she's striking.

It isn't until late the following Friday evening when I'm ready to go out with friends after sequestering myself in my dorm room. As I grab my phone and head out the door, I notice a text from Alex asking if I can talk. I smile as I hit the button on my phone.

"Hey," she answers.

"Hi. I'm glad you texted when you did—I'm about to go to an a cappella competition with some friends."

"Good."

Alex and I talk every night, and I've been honest with her about my lack of motivation to do anything other than talk to her, but she's been encouraging me to hang out with friends all week.

"I had to call to tell you I finally got my next placement."

I stop at the top of the stairwell. "Where is it?"

"Worcester," she says.

"Worcester? As in Worcester, Mass? That's like an hour away!" I yelp.

She chuckles. "I know."

I couldn't be any more excited with this news. "I…What…How did this happen?"

"I asked if there was anything in the area, and they just received a contract this morning for a job in Worcester at a substance abuse center."

"Alex, this is…"

"Incredible?" she finishes for me.

"I can't believe it…" I smile so hard it hurts. "When will you start?"

"November 5, and I'll work until the end of the year."

"That's even sooner than we thought!"

"It is," she replies. "I'm glad I didn't buy my plane ticket to see you yet."

I hear Polly calling my name, so I head downstairs. "I'm so excited, Al."

"Me, too, babe. Enjoy a night with friends. We'll talk tomorrow."

I hang up elated by this turn of events.

* * *

The following weekend, I check out three of the housing options that Alex sent me. This will be the first time she'll have the benefit of knowing _exactly_ what condition and what neighborhood the homes are in before she signs the lease. Although I can't technically move off campus, I intend to spend at least a couple nights a week at her house, so I want it to be a place we'd both enjoy.

The first two apartments I tour are disgusting. They're close to Holy Cross and Clark University, so my guess is they've been occupied by college students in recent years. The last place I visit is a small house in Charlton, which is a little more than 10 miles away from the treatment center where Alex will work.

It's a small, white house that looks like it was built in the 1930s with a green, tin roof. It could use a paint job, but it has charm and character, plus it's at the end of a quiet street that only has four other homes on it. The realtor shows me the inside, and while the furniture is definitely dated, it's still cute. There's a decent floor plan with a dining room that could serve as an office on the right, living room on the left and one bedroom in the back of the house. There's a galley-style kitchen that's twice the size of the kitchen in Alex's Dana Point cottage, and a mud room with a washer/dryer that leads to a covered back porch.

I step onto the porch and admire the Maple trees with their yellow and red leaves. "This is lovely. Is it available now?"

"November 1," he replies. "I've shown it twice yesterday and once today, so if your friend wants it, she needs to jump on it."

"She does," I say. "If you need money for a deposit, I'm happy to pay for it now."

"I don't need money yet—just the online application. After we receive that, I'll run a credit check."

"I'll make sure she fills out the paperwork tonight." I shake his hand. "She has excellent credit, so if you'd be so kind as to hold this place for her, I can assure you, she'll sign the lease within 24 hours."

"Sounds great."

I leave the house and immediately call Alex to relay my thoughts on all three properties.

"You saw the photos of the house I'm talking about, right?"

"I did, but I didn't like the furniture," she responds.

"It does seem like it's straight out of _Miami Vice_ with all the pastels, but it's a great house in a quiet neighborhood. The dining room is empty, so you could rent or buy a desk and make it an office if you wanted."

"I'm only going to be there for two months," she replies. "I'm not sure I'd need an office."

"The rent is $930 a month, which includes all utilities," I add.

"Not bad."

"I loved it, Al. Take a look at it online one more time, and if you want it, I told the guy you'd fill out the application tonight."

"Alright, thanks." I hear her move the phone away from her mouth and say something. "I have to go. I'll call later."

* * *

I wonder if there will ever be a time when I can say 'no' to Piper. The last time that happened, she kissed me in the middle of my office at the ripe age of 18. Reflecting back on that time in our lives, turning her away was difficult even though it was clearly the right thing to do.

This time, I find myself on the other end of Piper's strong-arming as I hoist a heavy desk into the dining room of my rental house in Charlton.

"It's perfect here," she says, hands perched on her hips. "You'll get the morning light."

I roll a chair behind the desk. "I'll get to appreciate the morning light exactly 12 times."

She wrinkles her brow. "How do you figure?"

"That's every weekend until New Year's Eve."

"Oh." She reaches into one of two boxes she brought. "My friend's mom was giving this sofa slipcover away, so I snagged it for you."

I take it, pulling the fabric to my nose. "To hide the turquoise couch in the living room?"

"Exactly." She shrugs. "Beige is better than turquoise."

"The throw pillows are still pink," I complain.

"I have a solution for those." Piper digs into the same box, pulling out two maroon pillow covers. "She had these, too."

I peer over her shoulder. "What else do you have in your little box?"

"Three artistic prints that we can hang in the living room." She holds one up.

It's an attractive abstract painting that I might buy if I had a permanent home. "Where did you get these?"

"I drew them."

I raise my brows. "You drew them?"

She nods. "Yeah, why?"

"I just…" I saunter over to her. "What other hidden talents do you have that I don't know about?"

She kisses me. "I guess you'll have to find out."

We spend the next hour rearranging furniture and unpacking my stuff, and Piper broaches a subject I'd been kind of hoping to avoid.

"I'm wondering when the best time might be for you to meet my friends."

"Yeah," I say, noncommittally. It's not that I don't want to meet the people Piper spends most of her time with, it's just that I don't want to hang out with a bunch of college kids. I'm guessing there's very little we'll have in common.

"Since you've got this great new place an hour away from school, maybe you could host a party or something," she suggests.

I glance around the living room. "It's not like it's palatial or anything."

She dusts the mantle. "It's bigger than the houses we live in on campus, which are glorified dorms."

"Is this important to you?" I sling my arms around her waist.

"Yeah, it is." She strings her arms over my shoulders. "Will you do it?"

I kiss her nose. "Why not?"

* * *

After helping me fully move in over the first weekend, Piper puts the wheels in motion for this little get together the following weekend.

The reality of living in Massachusetts hasn't settled in yet; it still feels like I'm a visitor. By the time Piper and I establish some kind of normalcy with my proximity to Smith, it'll be time for me to move elsewhere. She spends the first three nights with me, and it's spectacular. If I ever had any lingering doubts about our sexual chemistry, they're banished after three fabulous nights in bed.

All of my temporary jobs over the past three years have been decent. There are some clinics that feel more suited to my interests than others, but for the most part, they're all the same. It's been years since I've focused solely on substance abuse, and I'm reminded of why I decided to pursue this specialty. The first week at the treatment center is tough with the adolescent clients, but it's precisely why I do what I do.

Now that I like my house _and_ my job, my focus turns to liking Piper's friends. At 32, I don't really care if they like me, though I know Piper hopes we all become fast friends. I won't mention this to her, but I'm not in the market for a bunch of 21-year-old buddies. Speaking of buddies, Nicky is supposedly coming to visit the following weekend. By that point, I'll probably need a healthy dose of adulting—not that Nicky is what I'd consider a full-fledged adult.

Piper takes the bus to my house rather than driving on Friday after her morning class to see how reliable the public transportation is, and is it turns out, it's only five minutes late.

I greet her at the bus stop. "You made it."

She smiles. "I did."

I reach for her duffle bag. "How was your week?"

She cranes her neck to kiss me. "Better knowing I'd be with you today."

I return her kiss, then grab her hand. "Living in the same state definitely has its perks."

"Did you get the supplies for the party?"

"I grabbed a few things at the store yesterday," I respond.

No sooner are we in the door than we're all over each other. I figured we'd have a lot of pent up sexual frustration after not being able to be together for three years, but I didn't expect this. As stupid and cheesy as it sounds, it's like our bodies were made for each other. If she angles her head one way, mine goes along with it. If I reach for her waist, she reaches for my shoulders. We are totally in sync. I have never had that kind of Sympatico with another person.

We spend the night curled up under a blanket on the sofa just talking about the past week. It's comfortable and natural, and I can't imagine life getting much better than this. I won't allow myself to focus on this being a temporary living situation; for now, I want to indulge in the next few weeks with Piper by my side.

* * *

The next morning, I wake to find the spot next to me cold and empty. "Alex?"

She doesn't answer, so I search for her down the hallway. "Al?"

"In here."

I turn into the kitchen and watch her scrambling eggs. "What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast." She lowers the heat. "Hungry?"

"Yes." I approach her from behind and thread my arms around her waist. "Smells good."

"I don't usually make a big breakfast, but I woke up famished."

I kiss her shoulder. "Did we even eat dinner last night?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing more than a few grapes and almonds."

"We have to get better at that."

She turns around, flinging her arms over my shoulders with a spatula in hand. "At eating or at sex?"

"I can't imagine being better at sex," I chuckle, releasing her and taking the spatula to flip a sausage patty. "Don't you find that interesting?"

"That we're good in bed?" She shakes pepper onto the eggs.

I nod.

"I figured it would be good, but nothing like this," Alex admits.

I lead her on. "Are you saying I'm one of the best you've ever had?"

She tilts her head. "Surprisingly, yes."

I nudge her hip with my own. "Why surprisingly?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "You're young; we've waited three years. Sometimes the hype is better than the actual experience."

"I could see that," I say. "I'm glad the anticipation was worth it."

"It definitely was."

We eat breakfast and discuss the party logistics, and I have a sense that Alex isn't looking forward to it as much as I am. I take inventory of what she's stocked up and make a list of three or four more things we should pick up at the store today.

Other than the handful of parties my parents or Polly's have thrown over the years, I've never been to an adult party. Alex has a few candles strewn about the room, light music on in the living room, and a bar cart lined with premium alcohol and mixers.

She slices a lemon and a lime, then places them in matching containers on the bar cart. "It's probably too late to ask, but what do your friends drink?"

"Anything," I answer. "They're going to flip when they see all this top-shelf liquor."

"Is that a thing?"

I nod, placing a cocktail shaker next to the Hendrick's gin. "Our parties usually involve a mysterious alcoholic concoction in red Solo cups and Domino's pizza if we're lucky."

That makes her laugh.

"If nothing else, they'll see how classy you are."

She turns away before I watch her eyes roll. "Exactly what I was going for."

After cleaning the house from top to bottom, we shower and get ready for the party. She puts on a simple, black dress with a chunky silver necklace and matching earrings, and I decide on maroon jeans with a loose gray sweater.

"How do I look?" I fluff my hair.

Alex kisses me. "Beautiful."

I wrap my arms around her. "I don't know if I'm going to make it through the night without wanting to drag you into the bedroom."

If there's one thing I've proven since being with Alex, it's that I don't lack sexual stamina.

She lifts an eyebrow. "Drag me in here as often as you'd like."

The doorbell rings, I kiss her once more, and hastily walk to answer it.

Polly opens her arms for a hug. "Hi, Pipes!"

"Hi, thanks for coming!"

She hands me a bottle of Pinot. "Thanks for inviting us."

She and five other friends file in. Only Polly and my suitemate, Brit, brought wine. The others arrive with nothing. I don't hold that against them; after all, we're college kids. It's not like we're going to some soiree on the Upper Westside.

I step aside. "You guys, this is Alex."

"Hey." She waves and gives them a tight-lipped smile. "Welcome."

Polly shakes her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Same. Let me take your coat." Alex holds her hands out to collect jackets. "Help yourself to the bar and hors d'oeuvres."

"You have Hendrick's?" Brit asks, making her way to the bar cart. "Look at all this."

Polly follows her into the living room. "It's quite the spread."

There's a tray of bacon-wrapped scallops, stuffed mushrooms, and a caramelized onion dip with toast points for dipping. There's also a selection of cheeses, nuts and crackers.

"We should all be so lucky to host a party with top-shelf liquor and interesting food five years from now," I say.

"More like ten," one of my friends chimes in.

I know it's a dig at our age difference, but I let it slide for now. They all know how Alex and I met, and most of them think it's weird for me to be dating someone 11 years older than me. I asked them not to bring any of that up at the party, so I hope they hold true to their promise.

While they mix cocktails with the pricey booze, the doorbell rings again. It's four more friends—two Smithies and two guys. I recognize one of the men as the guy I had sex with freshman year of college.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing boys," I whisper to my friend.

She kisses both cheeks. "We're on our way to Boston, but when you texted, I figured we'd make a stop in Worcester to meet your girlfriend."

I don't know how Alex will react to boys in her house, so I hold my breath.

"Hi, I'm Alex." She nods at them. "Glad you could make it."

I watch their interactions carefully.

"Are you and Piper a _couple_?" Ben, the guy I dated, seems shocked by this news.

"Yeah," Alex responds plainly.

"I just..." He shrugs. "She and I fucked a couple years ago. I'd heard she was gay, but I didn't believe it."

I am _mortified_.

Alex casually and conspiratorially leans closer to him. "From what I gather, you're the reason she decided to go all-out lesbian. Something about a tiny dick or unskilled fingers. I can't remember…" she pauses with a tilt of her head. "Maybe it was both."

I blush at her response but am proud she held her own.

He puffs out his chest. "You must be mistaking me for someone else."

"I don't think so." Alex gives him a once over. "You're exactly the guy she described: about five-seven, thinning brown hair and stocky legs." Alex steps back and smiles, never losing her cool. "Anyway, please, help yourself to some hors d'oeuvres and cocktails."

I glance at my friends whose mouths are hanging open at the way Alex just verbally bitch-slapped Ben. She just made an awkward moment palatable, and I couldn't appreciate her any more. Of course, that makes me want to drag her to the bedroom to have my way with her, but I'm hosting a party so sex will have to wait.

My friend, Brit, was the first person I met at freshman orientation three years ago. She's also gay and has gotten more butchy over the years. When I showed her a picture of Alex, her mouth hung open, so I knew I'd have at least one Alex fan at the party. Sure enough, Brit tries to engage her in conversation early and often. I know I have nothing to worry about with either of them, but it's entertaining to watch as Brit tries to get her flirt on with my girlfriend.

The rest of the evening is fine, though my friends are a bit more judgey than I expected. Alex and I aren't super touchy, though I do hold her hand every once in a while and steal a kiss in the kitchen. If they're not solely conversing with one another, they answer Alex's questions without much thought. The conversations center around what's going on in college or what they're doing after graduation. It isn't until Polly asks Alex a question when she's actually invited to take part in the discussion.

"Are you planning to do the whole traveling therapist job forever?"

"No," Alex replies around a sip of vodka. "I'm hoping I can find a permanent job wherever Piper ends up going to grad school."

"It's that serious, huh?" she asks.

Alex grins at me, but it's me who responds. "It is."

She squeezes my hand, and once again I'm thrilled about how far we've come. For the second time tonight, I want to _show_ her how appreciative I am with my tongue, but instead, I offer to refill drinks.

If I learn nothing else at the party about Alex, it's that her confidence knows no bounds. She's undeterred by the stares she gets or by being excluded from conversations. She checks in with me often but isn't a nuisance. I can't imagine this is fun for her, but she never tips her hand to having a less than good time.

Everyone leaves around 11 o'clock.

"Sorry about that." I pick up three empty rocks glasses. "My friends were rude."

"They weren't rude." She takes a handful of plates to the kitchen. "They were just in their own little world. I get it—they've been in college for almost four years—it's what they know."

I place the glasses in the dishwasher. "They could've engaged in conversation with you more."

Alex grins. "Your friend, Brit, made up for all of them in that department."

That causes me to laugh. "I'd shown her a couple pictures of you, and she thought you were hot. Meeting you in person must've been a treat." I place the dishes on the bottom rack. "Like I've said before, you're lesbian catnip."

Her smile remains intact. "She was nice."

"She's great." I walk back into the living room and clear the mostly empty trays of food. "She's had a girlfriend for the past two years."

Alex wipes the coffee table and banquet. "Interesting."

"Why? Were you crushing on her?" I tease. Alex is _not_ into butchy women.

"God, no," she chuckles. "She was just super flirty."

"She'd never cheat on Savannah," I mention. "But she does flirt a lot."

"Would you like that?" She empties the ice bucket into the sink. "If I flirted with other women when you weren't around?"

"Are you kidding? I'd hate it."

She kisses the top of my head. "Glad we're on the same page."

I wiggle my brows. "I only have eyes for you."

Alex snorts.

We finish cleaning up the living room and kitchen, and then get ready for bed. Although this is only the second weekend I've spent with her, I love that we've already found a way to maneuver around each other in the tiny bathroom at night and in the morning. It shouldn't surprise me that we're totally in sync, but I didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

We're both exhausted when our bodies hit the bed, but I want to show Alex how appreciative I am of her. She tries to reciprocate, but I refuse. This is about me pleasuring _her_ tonight, not the other way around.


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter is rated M for Mature**.

* * *

I didn't know how well it would work for Piper and me to live an hour away from each other for the first time in three years, but it has exceeded my expectations. She drives to my house after her last class on Friday mornings and leaves Sunday after dinner.

We haven't slacked off in the sex department, and I don't anticipate that changing any time soon; after all, we have a lot of time to make up for. Much of the weekend is spent doing exactly that, but both of us need to be productive from a school/work standpoint. Piper typically spends two or three hours on homework on Saturday afternoons while I write clinical notes.

On this cold December morning, we sit near the fireplace and I turn on some light jazz music as I compile my notes and Piper works on a neuroscience report. Her hair is drawn back in a ponytail secured by a pencil, little tendrils of blonde hair spilling out. Concentration is etched on her brow and the set of her jaw; she's the very picture of a studious college senior.

"Did you know the ancient Egyptians thought the seat of intelligence was in the heart?" she asks, head buried in her textbook. "During the mummification process, they would remove the brain but leave the heart in the body. Fascinating." She highlights a sentence or two, then sticks the thin, green highlighter across her mouth, balancing it between her teeth.

My lips quirk to the side. Damn if Piper's brilliant mind doesn't turn me on as much as the rest of her. I continue staring at her while she works. Every so often she bites her lower lip as she types feverishly or writes something in the margin of her textbook, and I wish it was my teeth troubling her lip.

After several minutes of observing her, I can't sit idly by any longer—I need to touch her. I place my legal pad on the side table and sit across from her on the coffee table.

She glances up from her laptop. "What are you doing?"

"Watching you work."

I can tell by the way she scans my face that sex is the furthest thing from her mind. "Why?"

I tuck one of her stray tendrils behind her ear. "Because you're sexy as hell."

"Seriously?" She glances down at her gray t-shirt, which is actually _my_ t-shirt with a stubborn mustard stain near the collar.

I arch one brow. "Yes." I move the computer off her lap, and then cup her face with my hand.

"I was in the middle of—"

"Shhh." I silence her with a finger across her mouth. "Your report can wait." I scoot close enough to kiss her lightly. "I can't." I pull at her lower lip like I've wanted to as I've watched her work and am satisfied when she lets out a low moan. I tangle a hand in her hair, drawing her nearer but she's still not close enough. I use my other hand to pull her onto my lap, the dim sound of her textbook falling to the floor, pen and highlighter rolling off the pages and rattling onto the hardwood.

Piper straddles me, bucking her hips against me once before wrapping her arms over my shoulders. It's her turn to lace her fingers through my hair. She tugs it as I change the angle against her mouth. It doesn't take long for her to respond to my touch—it never has. She teases my lips with her tongue, and I open my mouth slightly to take it in. _My God_, I love her tongue. Another moan escapes from deep within, and I know she's as turned on as I am. I like how vocal she is during sex—I never have to ask what feels good. I made that mistake once, and she replied with a simple, _all of it_.

My fingers slip into the top of her yoga pants, one hand holding her hips in place while the other searches for her most sensitive spot. Again, I'm rewarded with her thrusting into me.

"Maybe we should—" she begins, but her words die down when I'm finally able to bury two fingers deep inside of her. There's no preamble—I need to feel her from the inside. Wetness is already pooling, making it easy for my fingers to glide in and out of her. Sometimes I like sex this way—hard and urgent with me fully in control. I sense that she likes it, too, though if I had to guess, Piper prefers when we lie face to face, gazing into each other's eyes. She doesn't complain though when I take her like this all needy and wanting.

My own body reacts to the squishy sounds coming from below and the smacking of our lips. I might be as wet as her, but I don't give her the opportunity to satisfy my craving. No, this time it's all about Piper. She struggles against me in this position, silently begging for more friction. I bury my head in her neck and change the angle of my hand so that my knuckles land on her clit. My forearm burns at the constant motion, so when I know she's close, I stop moving and let her ride my fingers. I glance up at her, head tossed back, mouth slightly open and a bead of sweat dripping down the column of her neck.

"Fuck, Al…"

She comes undone, and I watch her face contort and that vein in her forehead become more pronounced. There's nothing more satisfying than watching Piper cum.

"What was that?" She pants, finally resting her head on my shoulder.

"Do you really have to ask?" I chuckle, removing my fingers and wiping them on my shirt.

She places a lazy, sloppy kiss on my neck. "What provoked you all of a sudden?"

"Just watching you work." I shrug. "Your brain is a turn on."

Piper lifts her head and the pencil that was holding her hair back falls to the ground. "I'm glad you think so."

I arch an eyebrow. "I've always thought so."

"Even when I was your client?" She enjoys hearing my confessions from when she was under my clinical care.

I don't always indulge, but this time I give her the satisfaction. "Even then."

"That's hot." She kisses me firmly before swinging one leg off my lap and standing on wobbly legs. "Feel free to interrupt my studying anytime if it leads to an orgasm."

I smirk and get to my feet, stretching my back and shaking my stiff arm out. "I'll file that away for future reference."

I hook a thumb over my shoulder. "I'm gonna…"

"Oh." She looks surprised. "Don't you want me to return the favor?"

Sex shouldn't be tit for tat in my book; I'd never want Piper to fuck me just because I made her cum. "I'm good."

"You sure?" She toys with the sleeve of my flannel shirt. "I'm happy to."

I lean forward, lips pressed against her forehead. "Later."

I leave her in the living room and go to the bathroom to run my fingers over my own pussy. It's rare that I masturbate since Piper and I have been in such close proximity, but sometimes I don't mind getting off alone. I lift my fingers that were inside Piper's center to my nose and smell them as I close my eyes and work on my clit, thinking of her going down on me. It doesn't take long for me to have a silent yet powerful orgasm.

Rather than just wash my hands, I take a quick shower, and then return to the living room to work. After another hour of strict focus, I bring up a topic that's been on my mind for a couple weeks.

"I was thinking about going back to Darien for Christmas," I mention.

She looks up from her book. "Really?"

"I haven't seen Nicky in months," I reply. "When is the last time you were home?"

"Summer," she says. "But I don't need to spend the holidays with my family. I was hoping you and I would be together."

I set my pen down. "I wasn't implying we'd be apart."

She avoids eye contact. "I hadn't really considered going home."

I think I know what the issue is, and I haven't wanted to face it since getting together earlier this fall. I sit back and eye her suspiciously. "Have you told your family about me?"

She scratches her head, eyes still averted. "I don't think that'll go over very well."

"Because of our age difference?"

"That and because you were my therapist." She closes the textbook. "My dad will put two and two together. He never forgets anything."

I pull a blanket off the back of the sofa. "It's not like we've been fucking since you were 17."

"He won't see it that way."

"Why not?" I half-laugh. "It's the truth."

"I _want_ to tell them about you, it's just…" she pauses. "Not yet."

I adjust the blanket over our laps. "You're not going to be able to avoid it forever, babe."

"I know."

I never gave much thought to what Piper's parents would think about us being a couple. She never talks about them, so I suppose I've operated under the _out of sight, out of __mind_ mentality. I don't have a sense about her parents and what they would and wouldn't accept, but I can't imagine they'd be perfectly fine with Piper dating a much older woman who happened to have been her therapist a few years ago.

"That brings us back to the holidays," she says.

I set a stack of folders on the coffee table. "Do you want to stay here in Charlton?"

She lifts her shoulders. "We could get a Christmas tree and decorate."

"If I buy Christmas decorations, I'll have to haul them wherever I end up next."

"Then we buy a live tree, poinsettias and cheap candles," Piper offers. "Maybe a few chintzy decorations at the Dollar Store and a strand of lights or something."

"I wouldn't mind staying here, but I want to check in with Nicky."

She toys with a strand of my hair. "Was she expecting you to go home?"

"The only thing I told her was that I'd be on the East Coast for the holidays." I shrug. "I didn't suggest hanging out or anything, but I _would_ like to see her."

She twirls my dark locks around a finger. "Invite her here."

I don't know why I thought we'd go to Darien for Christmas, but I'm not opposed to staying local. "That could work."

I watch her eyes shift and can tell she's gnawing on a thought. "Where's your next job placement?"

I've been dreading that question, but I knew it would eventually surface. "I don't know."

She makes a little sound. "I've been spoiled having you so close."

"I know." I tuck a leg underneath me. "I e-mailed the agency, asking for another stint in the Northeast, but as of Tuesday, the closest job was in Philadelphia."

"That's not _horrible_."

"I have until next Monday to take it or wait for another one to pop up."

She releases my hair, hand gliding down my arm. "What if it doesn't?"

I shrug. "Then I go where they place me."

"Would you consider taking some time off?"

"I've thought about it," I begin. "But we talked about me moving wherever you go to grad school. If I don't have a placement or a full-time job by then, I'll have to use vacation time or quit."

Her brows rise. "You'd quit?"

"I have six weeks of vacation," I state. "If I use all of it and don't take a placement, they'll let me go. If that happens, I won't have health benefits and obviously wouldn't have an income."

"Do you have money saved?"

"Some, but I'd only use it if it was the last resort," I respond. "I'd rather use some of it as a down payment on a house and maybe a nice vacation."

She wiggles her brows. "A vacation with me?"

I grin. "Yes, with you."

"It's going to be another three or four months until I hear back from grad schools," she mentions. "I just submitted two applications this week and need to submit two more before the end of the year."

Piper has already told me where she's applying, and she's held on to the notion of living in Southern California by applying to San Diego State and UC San Diego. The other two are East coast schools, but she hasn't talked about staying here much. She took the GRE in the late summer and got an almost perfect score, so that, coupled with her grades and strong recommendations should land her pretty much wherever she wants.

"If you find out where you've been admitted in March and make a decision by April that gives me plenty of time to get a job—at least I hope it does," I state.

"If I get into UCSD, I'm going there," she responds. "I met two professors at the conference in October, and I like the research they're doing. Plus, if I go to school full-time, it's only a year and a half of school, and then one semester of clinicals."

"Sounds familiar." I smile, recalling being in a similar position not that long ago. "Only my clinicals were double what you're probably required to do, because I was getting licensed."

"I'll have to check on licensing requirements," she says.

I head to the kitchen. "It's still early for companies to post job openings nine months from now, but I can put some feelers out in the San Diego area."

"I'd like that." She follows me to the kitchen. "What do you want to do for dinner?"

I peek into the refrigerator. "I have chicken noodle soup that I made in the crockpot on Thursday; some lettuce and a cucumber for salad, or we can go out to eat."

"I've never been to a restaurant in Worcester," she says. "I feel like seafood."

"There's a great spot a couple miles away. They have two for one lobsters on Saturday nights."

"Perfect."

I realize this is the first time we've gone to dinner as a couple. We had street tacos in Dana Point for lunch that one time, but we've never been to a sit-down restaurant. It's not much different from eating at home, but we're a little more dressed up and a lot less touchy. Our conversation flows effortlessly as usual, and we pick up where we left off with our discussion about Christmas. By the time we leave, it's settled: we're staying in Charlton.

* * *

Although Christmas has never meant all that much to me, I love the idea of spending it with Piper. She's all about the holidays, and I enjoy being around her when she's giddy—not that I don't enjoy being with her all the time. We didn't do a big Thanksgiving thing because I had to work on the Wednesday before and the Friday after, but I have three days off around Christmas, so I'll be able to get more into the holiday spirit.

Nicky ended up canceling her trip to Massachusetts at the last minute due to strep throat, but she promised to spend a night or two over the Christmas holidays. I'm eager for her and Piper to meet and have a feeling they'll get along well—better than I got along with her friends. It's not that I didn't like Piper's college friends, it's just that they act their age. I can't hold that against them, but Piper is ten times more mature, and I have a feeling that after she graduates, she'll gradually lose touch with most of them.

Piper's nearly month-long winter break begins a week before Christmas, and she pretty much moves in the day school is out. It's been nice waking up each morning with her and coming home to her in the evenings. I find myself smiling more at work and anticipating the moment I open the door to see her reading on the sofa or whipping up some catastrophe in the kitchen. She's taken over my stereo, playing nothing but Christmas music 24/7, but I can't say that it bothers me. I love hearing how she spent her day, and she enjoys listening to my stories about clients. Of course confidentiality is paramount in my profession, so I don't divulge personal information about my clients, but I share situations that I think she'll find interesting. She likes when I quiz her about what she'd do with a particular client, and nine times out of ten, her response matches my own.

On December 23, I enter my house to the smell of cooked meat.

"Smells good in here." I drop my bag near the door and proceed to the kitchen. "What are you making?"

Piper holds her cheek out, and I kiss it. "Roast and vegetables." She lifts the lid on the Crockpot.

"Looks good."

"I followed the recipe exactly, and it's been cooking for seven hours," she replies. "So it better taste good."

"I'm sure it will." I hang my coat on a hook by the back door. "How was your day?"

"Fine." She checks the rice cooker. "I went to the grocery store, finished my last two grad school apps, and then took a nap."

"Sounds nice."

"It was," she replies. "How was yours?"

I open the cabinet in search of a bottle of red wine. "I heard from my company about my next placement."

She stands completely still. "And?"

I pull a bottle of Grenache off the shelf. "I have a choice: Philadelphia or Manchester."

"Manchester is only like two hours away," Piper responds. "That's not bad."

"Two and a half on a _good_ day, but it's better than the five-hour drive to Philly," I reply, searching for the wine opener.

She reaches for two glasses. "Are you going to take it?"

I shove the tip into the cork. "I don't have a choice."

"You do, actually. You could see what comes up in the next week or two."

"You're right, I could," I reply. "But that would mean risking a placement in New England altogether."

"Or something could come up a little closer to Northampton," she offers.

I pull the cork out. "I don't want to risk it, babe."

"You're right. Take the Manchester position; we can handle the drive," she responds. "When would you start?"

I pour a small amount in one glass, sniff it, and then take a sip. "They'd like someone to start January 3, but because of the late notice, they'll accept someone the following Monday."

She leans against the counter. "Maybe you could stay in Charlton until then."

I never thought I'd be this bummed out about moving two and a half hours away from Piper, but fuck if she hasn't gotten under my skin. I've loved _kind of_ living with her over the past few weeks.

She links our pinkies and pulls me towards the living room. "How long is this next job?"

"Three months." I sip my wine. "One of their therapists is having back surgery."

She counts on her fingers. "That would put us in early April right around the time of my last college spring break. By then, I'll know where I'm going to grad school. Maybe we could go on a trip to celebrate?"

I rotate my neck from side to side, feeling the tendons crack. "A vacation sounds amazing."

Piper snuggles against me. "Let's go someplace tropical."

"Mmm." I kiss the top of her head. "Keep talking."

She goes on and on about a beach vacation, staying in a five-star resort and being waited on hand and foot by hot pool boys. I play with her hair as she describes every detail, allowing my imagination to transport me to this fictional setting. Then it dawns on me that I've never seen Piper in a bikini. I have a photo of her in one from her freshman year of college but seeing her in the flesh sounds far better than a measly photograph.

We eat dinner that night and open a second bottle of wine. Piper starts a list of places we could go, and I chime in when necessary. For the most part, I just like watching the excitement in her eyes and hearing the enthusiasm in her tone. As she starts talking about the hotel where her parents honeymooned 25 years ago, something dawns on me and my body jerks like I've just been awakened from a deep sleep.

"Piper?"

She pauses, wine glass suspended in midair. "Hmm?"

"I love you."

She shakes her head and leans forward as if she must've misunderstood. "What?"

My lips tug upwards as I reach for her hand. "I don't know why I'm telling you this now; it just dawned on me…" I shake my head in small bursts as my smile widens. "I'm in love with you."

Her face cracks into a wide smile. "You are?"

"Yeah," I laugh at my sudden realization.

She quickly shoves her chair back and pulls me into a tight embrace. "I love you, too, Alex."

I'm still laughing at how this feeling rushed over me, and I had no choice but to blurt it out.

"I didn't allow myself to even dream about a moment like this." She pulls back and wipes her teary eyes. "I love you so much."

"Same." I kiss her and caress her cheek.

She hugs me so hard that I worry about breathing in enough oxygen.

I finally get out of my seat and pull Piper from her knees to her feet. We kiss gently, hands slowly exploring each other's bodies. It doesn't take long for desire to appear in her eyes, and I'm sure they're only a mirror of mine. I lead her to the bedroom, where we slowly make love. It reminds me of our first time, but this time there's no doubt in my mind—this is the person I'm meant to be with, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I'll save that little nugget for another time.

* * *

I wake up at some godawful time in the morning and slip out of bed to use the bathroom. I remember eating dinner, but after Alex told me she loves me, I don't think we cleaned the dishes. Sure enough, the kitchen is exactly the way we left it—plates still dotted with a few bites of carrots and rice, half-full wine glasses, roast sitting in coagulated gravy in the Crockpot, and a candle burning in a glass jar. I make sure we didn't leave the stove on, and then smile as I sit in the chair I occupied hours earlier.

I'll never forget tonight—the way Alex looked at me when she said those three little words; the way she let me go on and on about our potential spring break trip; the way she walked me to her bedroom and undressed me. The first time we had sex was spectacular, and every time after that has been equally good if not better, but this is the first time I could call it _making love_. This is even more than I've wanted from the start. I never thought we'd get to this point in our relationship—my greatest hope was that we'd take a stab at being together and see where it took us; I didn't allow myself to wonder if we could get to the point of declaring our love.

"Having leftovers without me?" Alex pads into the kitchen, and I turn around and watch her walk towards me completely naked except for a thick pair of socks.

"Hey." I reach for her. "I remembered we didn't clean up after dinner."

She grabs her eyeglasses off the kitchen counter. "So you decided to sit at the table?"

"I was just thinking about the way the evening ended."

She contains a grin. "Remind me."

"You declared your undying love for me," I say through a clever smile.

She chuckles. "I don't think those were my exact words."

I pull her onto my lap; usually it's the other way around, but I don't want her bare ass to be cold on the chair. "I was paraphrasing."

"Do you want to stay up and talk about this undying love, or can I convince you to come back to bed?"

"What about the dishes?" I ask.

"They can wait until morning." She runs a hand through my hair. "Sleep is far more important right now."

I yawn. "You're probably right."

We crawl back into bed, and Alex turns off the lamp.

"Do you think that changes anything about us?" I ask in the darkness.

"Does what change?"

I sidle up to her, nuzzling my chin against her neck. "That we said we love each other."

"I don't think it fundamentally changes anything." She slowly strokes my back. "It might make us a little more connected."

"I can't imagine being any more connected to you than I am now."

She places a light kiss on the top of my head, and I feel before I hear a small rumble of laughter in her chest. It's almost like I'm not in on her secret. "Good night, babe."

I drift off to sleep, smiling in her arms.

* * *

Author's Note: Hope you're all doing well amidst the Coronavirus outbreak. It's been a weird time here in Seattle, and while I feel a bit unsettled, I'm not freaking out. Hope you're all healthy and practicing social-distancing! My thoughts on this chapter...I wrote Piper to be a little petulant, because to me, that's who she is on the show. I also wanted their declaration of love to be something out of the blue in an everyday moment. Piper has been in love with Alex forever, so I thought it was important for Alex to be the first to admit she's in love with petulant little Ms. Chapman. Plenty more to come on this story with a healthy dose of angst. :-)


	15. Chapter 15

The following morning begins with a quick trip to the grocery store followed by a thorough house cleaning as we prepare for Nicky's arrival around mid-day. She's only spending one night, choosing to return to Darien to wake up on Christmas morning with her girlfriend of two months.

Alex finishes emptying the dishwasher. "Nicky should be here in like 15 minutes."

"Perfect." I turn on my Christmas playlist. "Do you think she'll want to eat lunch when she gets here?"

"Knowing Nicky, she skipped breakfast and will be starving after the three-hour drive."

I rest my hands on my hips and scan the room. "The place looks good."

She kisses my cheek. "Thanks for your help with all the cleaning."

"I actually like cleaning," I say, moving away to fluff a throw pillow. "There's something cathartic about it."

"Good, then we'll never have to hire a housekeeper."

Is she implying that we'll live together? I shouldn't be surprised by that, but it makes me overjoyed to hear her refer to what I hope is our inevitable cohabitation.

She grabs her keys. "I'm going to move my car further up the driveway so Nicky doesn't have to park on the street."

"Because May Valley Road is such a busy freeway?" I joke. The only people who drive on this street are the occupants of the other four houses.

I wonder if Alex is nervous about introducing me to Nicky. She hasn't stopped moving since early this morning. I know she confided in her friend about her feelings for me three years ago, but I don't know what Nicky's reaction was when Alex confessed she had thoughts about her then 18-year-old client. There's no way Nicky could be ruder than my friends, so I'm hoping we hit it off and Alex has nothing to worry about.

I fold a blanket over the sofa and glance out the window to see a BMW pull into the driveway. Alex shuts her car door and walks over to the driver's side with a wide smile. Nicky exits the vehicle and says something I can't hear, and then hugs her. It's evident how happy they are upon being reunited. She pops the trunk and hands Alex her duffle bag, then she hoists a paper bag out of it. As soon as Nicky looks at the house, I duck behind the curtain, hoping she didn't catch me spying.

Nicky steps inside, and I quickly pretend to adjust the ornaments on the Christmas tree.

"How much longer are you here?" she asks, still in conversation with Alex.

"Until the end of the year, but I might stay a few extra days before I start my next gig."

"Which is where?"

She shuts the door. "Manchester, New Hampshire."

Nicky glides into the living room, and when she turns around, she spots me. "Hey. You must be Piper."

"Hi, yes. It's a pleasure to meet you." I extend my hand. "Alex speaks highly of you."

Nicky smirks at her old friend. "Does she, now?"

I nod, reaching for the brown paper bag she carried inside. "Can I take that?"

She hands me the shopping bag. "Oh, this is for you."

Alex moves next to me. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"My mom didn't teach me much, but she _did_ advise me never to show up empty handed," she replies.

I peek inside to see a bottle of wine and a box of pastries. "Are those croissants?"

"And a few other baked goods." She removes her coat. "My girlfriend is a baker, so I stopped at the place she works to get these this morning. The chocolate eclairs are to die for."

"Thank you so much." I smile, already fond of Alex's best friend. "I'll put these in the kitchen."

She must think I'm out of earshot when she turns to Alex and says, "You were right, Vause, she's hot."

I blush as I take the items out of the bag. "Are you hungry, Nicky?" I call from the kitchen.

"Famished," she replies. "Why don't you give me a tour of your temporary digs, and we can go out to eat or something."

"Piper made a wild rice and mushroom soup," Alex responds as I return to the living room.

"We don't have to eat that if you don't want." I wave her off. "Alex told me you like mushrooms, so I thought—"

She puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're cute _and_ you cook? You're a keeper."

Alex hangs Nicky's coat on a hook by the door. "She cleans, too."

Nicky smiles. "I'm sorry I didn't get to her first."

"Well, I'm glad we're meeting now."

"After all these years." She eyes me and shakes her head. "I'm glad things worked out for you two crazy kids."

The conversation flows easily as we eat lunch and swap stories about Alex. I learn a little more about Nicky's privileged background and how she resents her parents now, and she asks me questions about growing up in Darien. Alex told me that her friend was _comical_, but she didn't mention how crass and funny she is.

We spend the afternoon hanging out at Alex's house, and then drive into Boston. Despite the cold temperature, we spend a few hours doing touristy stuff before our reservation at The Salty Pig on Newbury Street.

It's evident that they've known each other a long time. They finish each other's sentences, share old stories, and have the same sense of humor. Neither of them excludes me from any part of the conversation, which is what I'd hoped my own friends would've done when I introduced them to Alex. Maybe she was right—our age difference isn't an issue for us as a couple, but Polly and the gang have a limited scope as college seniors.

"Tell me an embarrassing story about Alex," I request over a shared slice of cheesecake.

"Don't," Alex replies, but her face is soft.

I tilt my head. "Please."

Nicky holds her hands up. "Alright, alright…I'll tell you one that's not super embarrassing."

"Which one?"

"The one about the cash on your bed."

Alex rolls her eyes as she sips a glass of Port. "Fine."

"I'm sure she's told you about her days in the drug cartel."

"Not nearly enough," I reply, remembering the countless times I've asked her to tell me more, yet we always seem to get interrupted.

"Suffice it to say, Vause was a baller back in the day," she begins. "She always got paid in cash, because the drug lords didn't want checks or bank deposits to be traced back to them."

I listen intently.

"There was one time when we were both living in the City, and I hadn't heard from her in like a week, but she told me she'd be in town," she continues. "So, I went to her apartment to check on her one morning. The door was propped open and the place was pretty trashed—like she'd had a rager the night before and didn't clean a thing. Candles were still lit, wax dripping on the floor; half-empty bottles of Champagne were all over the room; and some dude was passed out on the sofa with a bong resting on his stomach."

I glance at Alex, who seems tense, but not upset. I wonder if she doesn't like telling me these stories because she lives with the guilt of what she did for a living.

"I called for her, but she didn't answer, so I went to her bedroom, and there she was asleep and literally covered in cash," Nicky states with wide eyes and a smile. "You couldn't even see the surface of her bed—there was money fucking _everywhere_!"

I turn to her. "Is that true?"

She sits back and raises her eyebrows. "It was the first time I'd seen that kind of cash, and I was pretty wasted. A couple of friends from the cartel told me I should sleep with the money, so I did."

"She spread $10,000 all over the bed," Nicky chimes in with laughter. "I'd never seen anything like it."

I give her a look. "Ten thousand dollars?"

"Yeah." Alex strings an arm over the back of my chair. "I did stupid shit like that all the time."

"I didn't realize Alex hadn't told you a lot about those days," Nicky says.

She holds up her hand. "It's fine. I'm sure it won't be the only embarrassing story you'll hear while Nicky's in town."

I make a mental note to ask Alex to tell me more about her life before prison, but for now, I switch the conversation to how the two of them met.

We leave Boston just after stuffing ourselves silly and get back to Alex's place close to midnight. Nicky wants to have a nightcap before going to sleep, so while Alex goes into the kitchen to open a bottle of Brandy, I have a moment alone with her friend.

"Thanks for driving out here," I start. "I know Alex misses you."

"I miss her, too."

"You should visit her in some of the cities she goes to," I reply. "I'm sure she'd love the company."

"You're right, I should." Nicky kicks her legs up on the coffee table. "What about you—aren't you graduating soon?"

"May." I nod.

"Good for you." She smiles. "So, Vause is moving to New Hampshire next?"

I sit in the armchair. "She tried getting a placement close to Northampton, but Manchester was the closest thing they had."

"What's that, like a three-hour drive?"

I tuck my hair behind my ear. "Something like that."

"That's not bad," Nicky responds. "You could see each other every weekend…unless that's not what you want."

"Oh, I want it," I quickly reply. "I can't imagine not seeing Alex at least once a week. I've been spoiled with her living so close."

"I don't know if she told you," Nicky slings her arm over the back of the sofa. "But she's had the hots for you for a _long_ fucking time."

I glance at my lap, feeling my cheeks start to tingle.

"Even when she was your therapist, there was something in her eyes when she talked about you. She struggled with that—she knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help it."

Alex told me that there are rare moments when Nicky is serious, but when she is, she's usually got something poignant to share.

I feel the blush crawl up my neck and wonder if my face is pink.

"I'm glad I finally got to see the two of you together," Nicky says. "She's not just smitten, blondie. Vause is in love."

I finally speak. "How can you tell?"

She grins. "I can see it on you, too."

Alex strolls into the living room with a glass of Brandy. "Does this taste weird, or is it just me?"

I quickly recover, sitting up taller and reaching for the glass. "Let me see." I take a sip and watch Alex's eyes move from me to Nicky and back to me.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"It's a little on the sweet side." I hand it back to her. "But it's not bad if that's what you were worried about."

Nicky doesn't join us in sampling the Brandy. "I was just telling Piper that you look like a love-sick puppy."

Alex juts her chin back. "What?"

"Those weren't her words." I stand, linking my arm through hers. "She just said it looks like we're in love."

"As long as you didn't say I'm pussy whipped."

"I didn't say it, but you are," she laughs.

"Fuck you, Nichols." Alex pats my butt, then returns to the kitchen.

"She's not whipped," I defend.

Nicky shrugs, arms wide open. "I call it like I see it."

She returns with three glasses of Brandy. "Tell us more about this baker girlfriend of yours."

Nicky regales us with how they met in the bakery and how she went so frequently before asking Melissa out that she racked up $200 in baked goods, most of which she didn't even eat.

I finish my Brandy right as I catch myself yawning. "I'm going to call it a night. Do you need help with the sofa bed?"

"I got it." Alex gets to her feet, pecking me on the cheek. "Night, babe."

"Sleep well, Nicky."

"You, too."

* * *

Christmas comes and goes in a flash, and I have an after-the-holidays-hangover. I love all the fanfare that comes with Thanksgiving and Christmas so much that when it's over, I feel deflated. That plus the month of January seems to go on forever—it's dark, wet and cold. The trees have lost their leaves and the world seems colorless. In addition to my post-holiday blues, I have to find a way to tell my parents about Alex. By no means is she forcing me to come clean, but it's not fair to her. I feel like it shows a lack of respect if I don't fess up soon—like Alex doesn't mean as much to me as she does. Now that we've exchanged I love yous, it's high time I tell my parents I'm in a meaningful relationship. The question is whether I tell them in person or over the phone.

"I'm happy to talk it out with you, but it's ultimately your decision," Alex says as she stretches fresh sheets across the bed.

"They should meet you before I go to grad school." I tuck the flat sheet under the mattress. "I just don't know which route is better—phone or in person."

What I'm intentionally leaving out is that Alex and I will probably live together when I go to grad school. We haven't discussed it beyond relocating to the same city, and I don't want to press the matter when I have no idea where I'm going to be and there are other pressing matters at hand.

"Are you just processing out loud, or do you want my opinion?"

I shove a pillow in its case. "I want your opinion."

She fluffs the comforter. "If it were me, I'd tell them on the phone, and then plan a time when we can meet."

I ponder that idea for a moment. "Would you be willing to meet them in the near future? That is, if they agree to meet you."

"I guess," she replies non-committedly.

I place a hand on my hip. "Do you _want_ to meet them?"

She finishes making the bed. "I don't have a burning desire to meet the Chapmans, but that doesn't mean I won't."

"Why not? I mean, besides the obvious reasons with our age difference and your position as my former therapist."

She gives me a look. "Do I need reasons beyond those?"

"Then why do I feel like you _should_ meet them?"

"You tell me."

"I guess I feel an obligation." I sit on the edge of the freshly made bed. "I'm still beholden to them financially. I have my own spending money, but they foot the bill for my education and my car."

"That's no small chunk of change." She places a hamper of clean clothes next to me. "Do you want to tell them about us because you think they deserve to know from a financial standpoint?"

"That doesn't sound logical." I pull out a t-shirt to fold. "I guess I want them to know how important you are to me—I want them to like you."

She lets out an almost indistinguishable laugh.

"What?"

"You might want to lower your expectations." She tosses a pair of jeans on the chair.

"Why?"

"You said it yourself—your dad will remember me." Alex folds another shirt. "And even if he doesn't, they're probably going to think our relationship is inappropriate."

"But it's not." I place a stack of shirts in a dresser drawer.

"You don't have to tell _me_," she responds. "It's them you have to convince."

"I'll tell them the whole story." I shrug. "About how I had a crush on you when you were my counselor, but you refused to have anything but a professional relationship with me."

She shoves our underwear in a drawer. "Do you think they'll believe that?"

"It's the truth."

Alex moves the now empty laundry basket onto the floor, sits where I was a moment ago, and takes my hand. "If telling your parents about us is important to you, and I assume it is, you need to rip the Band Aid off, but don't expect an unreasonable outcome."

I step between her legs. "What would be unreasonable?"

She raises her shoulders. "That they'd understand the nuances of our relationship and be grateful that we waited to be together."

"You think that's unreasonable?"

"Yeah, I do," she half-laughs. "Who have you told our story to who hasn't grimaced when they first heard it?" she asks rhetorically. "I'll be the first to admit it's unconventional at best and even a little skeevy if you think about it out of context."

"But you didn't have feelings for me until I was in college," I protest.

"That's not entirely true—I pushed my feelings aside, telling myself it was fucked up to think of you that way when you were younger." Alex's expression turns grave. "It wasn't until at least a year later when I allowed myself to think of you in a romantic way, but people don't latch on to that part. It's the first part that creeps them out." She shakes her head. "For God's sake, Piper, you were 17! _That's_ where your parents' thoughts will go, and that's the part that's difficult for _anyone_ to understand, much less the people who raised you."

I lower my head, knowing Alex is right. I view our relationship as a fairytale love story, but that's probably not how the world sees it.

"If you want to wait—" she begins.

"No," I interrupt. "I don't want to wait; besides, what would I be waiting for? It's not like we're going to be any more in love two or three months from now."

She lifts her brows.

"That would be impossible," I say.

Alex cranes her neck to kiss me. "You'd be amazed at how much capacity my heart has for you."

That's one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. I place my hands on her cheeks and sigh. "I'm not waiting to tell them even if it's possible that we're not at the height of our love."

She pulls back and smiles. "I was thinking _depth_ rather than height."

"Semantics." I kiss her once more before turning and walking away. "I'm going to call them now."

She gets to her feet. "_Now_?"

I glance at my watch. "They're probably both home on a Sunday morning, so yeah."

If I don't call them at this moment, I'll lose the tiny bit of courage I possess. "Will you stay in the room with me?"

She nods.

I grab my phone off the coffee table and take a deep breath before dialing their number.

"Good morning, Piper," my dad answers.

I put him on speakerphone. "Hi, Dad. Is mom there?"

"She's in the kitchen…Carol!" he calls. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"We missed you at Christmas dinner."

"Did grandma make her cornbread stuffing?" I smile, recalling the best part about the annual dinner.

"She did, and it was as delicious as usual. Hang on, I'm going to put you on speaker so your mom can hear."

"Hello, dear," my mom says with the same lackluster greeting she always gives me on the phone.

"Hi, Mom." I glance at Alex, who is perched on the edge of the armchair. "I called to tell you something important."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I reply. "Nothing's wrong."

"Then what is it?" my father asks.

"I'm calling because…" I take a deep breath before spitting it out. "I wanted to tell you that I'm in a relationship."

Silence.

"Hello?"

"In a relationship? With whom?" my mom asks in a disbelieving tone. "The last I heard, you hadn't gone on a date since your first year at Smith."

I feel lighter having told them the first part, but the rest of the story is the part they aren't going to like. "She's someone I've known for a while—three years, actually."

"_She_?"

"Yes." I swallow hard. "I'm dating a woman." I was so focused on the idiosyncrasies of my relationship with Alex that I didn't even consider what they might think about the fact that I'm in love with another woman.

"Since when are you a lesbian?" my dad blurts out.

"I'm not gay," I reply. "I fall somewhere on the spectrum…" I glance at Alex who gives me a look like now is not the time to explain where I fall on the Kinsey Scale. "That's beside the point. I'm dating a woman. I _love_ a woman."

"Are you drunk?" my mom screeches. "We raised you better than this!"

"Better than what?" I arch my eyebrows. "Falling in love with a person of the same sex? I didn't realize that had something to do with how you raised me."

"You know what your mother means," my dad replies in a condescending tone.

"It's not something I planned…" I begin pacing. "It just happened."

"Things like this don't _just happen_, Piper," he replies. "Did someone put you up to this? I knew sending you to an all-women's college would be a mistake."

"Coming to Smith was _not_ a mistake!" I feel heat emanating from within me. "And I met this person before I enrolled, so it has nothing to do with the college I attend."

They remain silent, so I steady my breath and try to calm down before proceeding. "Do you remember when I had to go to substance abuse counseling after my senior year of high school?"

"How could we forget?"

"Well…" I place my hand on my forehead. "I developed a crush on my therapist." Better to get it out all at once.

"Is she the one who told you that you should go out with other girls?" my mom asks as if that would be the _worst advice_ _ever_.

"No, I mean…" I could tell her that Alex encouraged me to kiss a girl, but that would take way too long to unpack. "The crush I had wasn't on other girls; it was on _her_—on Alex."

I bite my lower lip, waiting for the backlash. Alex doesn't flinch.

"Your _therapist_?" he asks in a bitter tone. "Piper, she was an _adult_—you were a child!"

"Nothing happened," I quickly add. "I want to make sure you understand that—_nothing happened_ between us back then."

"Is she the woman you're with _now_?" my mother asks as if she's finally putting the pieces together. "Your former therapist?"

I glance at the woman I love before answering, "Yes."

All I can hear are moans, groans and other sounds of disgust.

"Please hear me out," I try. "Alex wanted nothing to do with me when I was under her care. I'm the one who confronted her, hoping we could have a relationship or something, but she refused."

"She damn well better have refused!" my dad responds. I picture him storming out of his chair and beginning to pace. I guess I get my need to move when delivering or hearing bad news from him. "Did she touch you inappropriately?"

"God, no!" I make a face. "She wanted nothing to do with me!"

"Until when?" he asks.

"Three years later," I answer. "We only reconnected a few months ago."

It's not a lie—I don't need to tell them about staying in touch with Alex through the years; after all, it wasn't until October when we kissed for the first time (minus the kiss in her office that will go to my grave with me before telling my parents.)

"I hadn't even seen her since that whole court mandated drug and alcohol thing." Again, not the whole truth but I'm not going to dwell on technicalities of running into Alex the summer before college and the many times we talked and texted since then. "Remember I told you about that conference I went to in San Diego in early October?"

They remain silent, and I can almost hear my dad stewing.

"Alex was living in Southern California, and we saw each other again," I say. "And things just…clicked."

"She has to be at least 15 years older than you," he replies. "What does a 30-something-year-old woman want with a 21-year-old kid?"

"I'm an adult, dad," I remind him. "And Alex is 11 years older than me. You've always said I was more mature than my age."

"That's beside the point," my mom chimes in. "She's a…a _woman_!"

"Why does her gender matter?"

"It's not just her gender, although that certainly came out of the blue—it's her age, Piper," my father finishes. "What could you possibly have in common?"

"I'm a psychology major, she's a therapist, we like the same books, the same music, the same food…We have similar temperaments, we enjoy having intellectual conversations…should I go on?"

"Don't get smart with us," my mom chastises. "I do not approve of this, Piper—none of it."

"That makes two of us," he replies.

"You don't have to approve." I feel tears stinging my eyes. "I'm telling you about Alex because she has become very important to me, and I don't see that changing." I sniff, holding back tears. "You raised me to love generously and to be a good person. I'd like to believe I've become someone you can be proud of no matter who I choose to love."

Alex reaches for my hand.

"I need some time with this, Piper," my dad responds. "Right now, I'm upset and concerned about your lifestyle choices."

I open my mouth to rebuke his statement, but Alex squeezes my hand and gives me a look as if I should let it lie.

"If you ever come around, I'd love for you to meet her." I wipe my eyes with my shirtsleeve. "I guess that's all for now."

"Goodbye, Piper."

I hang up and collapse onto Alex's lap, crying.

"That wasn't easy." She rubs my back. "I'm proud of you."

"I don't know why I need their approval."

"It's not that you need it," she says. "You just want it."

I nod.

"Maybe they'll come around eventually." She caresses my thigh. "I'm not going anywhere."

That causes me to smile. "Thank you."


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Whichever reviewer pointed out the line in the last chapter, "You'd be amazed at how much capacity my heart has for you," that was my favorite line in all 212 pages. I've always thought of Alex's love for Piper even grander than she can fathom. Now you know how long the story is, and I've almost broken it down into the proper number of chapters. I mentioned 20 chapters way back when, but it looks like it might be a tad over 20 with a brief epilogue. Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

The entire month of January sucks. Alex moves to Manchester on the 8th; my parents haven't spoken to me since I told them about our relationship; and I have to take 21 grueling credits my last semester of college. I'm cursing myself for being overzealous in my educational pursuits. Adding to my misery, a blizzard crushes the Northeast at the end of the month, making travel treacherous and leaving Alex and I no choice but to remain in Northampton and Manchester respectively for two weekends in a row.

Alex tries to lift my mood by asking me to plan our spring break trip, but the more I research tropical beaches, the more I long to be there _now_. Then there's the waiting game about where I'll go to graduate school. Moving to California is becoming more appealing the more distant I become from my parents.

It isn't until right before mid-winter break in February when my parents unexpectedly reach out to me.

"We'd like to talk about your relationship in person," my father states in a tone that makes me wonder if he'd _really_ like to discuss it. "Can you come home over break?"

I was planning to spend the five days off with Alex, but this deserves my attention. "Yeah, I can probably make it, but I'd like Alex to be with me."

"That's ridiculous," my mom chimes in. "Why does _she_ have to be here?"

"Because she's my other half," I reply steadfastly. "I'm sure you have questions for her as much as you do for me."

My dad huffs and my mom makes an audacious sound.

"I'm 21-years-old, and I get to make decisions that are best for me," I begin, paying very close attention to the cadence of my voice. I don't want to get worked up about this over the phone—the last thing I need is for them to think I'm acting childish with my outbursts. "_Alex_ is what's best for me."

"What about school?"

"I'm taking a full load this semester and will graduate with a double major _and_ a minor," I respond. "I've also applied to graduate schools—_nothing_ is going to derail my professional aspirations."

"I'll allow Alex to come to our home, but she's not welcome to spend the night," he replies.

I'm not going to mention that if Alex doesn't spend the night, neither will I. They'll see how far they've pushed me if it comes to that. "I'll be there Saturday afternoon."

"See you then."

At least this is progress; now I just need to convince Alex to join me in front of the firing squad. I immediately call her.

"Hey," she answers. "Have you dug out of the snow yet?"

"Barely," I respond, happy to hear her voice rather than my disenchanted parents. "Classes were cancelled yesterday, but we were back in session today."

"Hang on…" I hear her shut the car door. "I'm just getting home."

"Long day?"

"My last client went a little over time," she replies.

I plop on my bed with a thud. "I just got off the phone with my parents."

I hear her drop her keys on a table. "Who called whom?"

"They called me." I lean my back against the wall, letting my feet dangle off the mattress. "They want to talk in person."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I told them I'd only do that if you were with me."

She's silent, so I continue. "They're going to have a million questions, and I'd like for you to be there to defend yourself…and for moral support."

I hear her open the refrigerator as bottles clink. "Don't you think it would be better hearing from you first?"

I fiddle with the edge of my comforter. "If you don't want to be there, I can—"

"It's not that I don't want to," she begins. "I mean, I _don't_, but I want this to work out for you."

"Your being there will help," I try.

I hear her open a bottle of something that fizzes. "If you think so."

"You don't?"

She takes a sip. "I don't know your parents, so I have no idea what the best way is to proceed."

"_This_ is the best way—you and me together," I say.

"If you think so, babe," she replies. "When will this meeting happen?"

I get to my feet and glance at the calendar on my wall. "I have mid-winter break next Thursday through Sunday. I thought maybe I could drive to Manchester, spend a couple days with you, and then we could head to Darien on Saturday." I sit in my desk chair. "I haven't seen you in two weeks."

"I know," she sighs. "How are the spring break trip plans going?"

I tell her about the minimal research I've done and promise to put more thought into it after we meet with my parents. Right now, that's what's consuming me.

* * *

My Manchester apartment is a far cry from my cute house in Charlton, and it's depressing compared to my beachside cottage in Dana Point. Rather than going with the nicer, more expensive option, I decided to get the least expensive housing option so I can sock away a little extra money for my impending move. It's a sparsely furnished studio apartment in a less appealing part of town, but it'll do for just under three months.

My job at the private psychological clinic is decent, though I'm doing more general counseling than substance abuse. The other therapists are about my age, which makes it a little more fun than most clinics where the average age of the psychologists is 50-something. It's the first place I've worked that has regular staff lunches and happy hours, which has been nice.

It's amazing how much having Piper around influenced my mood. I loved waking up with her, sharing meals together, and talking about future plans. Even when I didn't see her for four or five days in a row, I knew we'd be together by Friday evening. This long stretch of not seeing her has been more difficult than I thought it might, which is why I'm glad she's staying with me during part of her mid-winter break. What I'm _not_ looking forward to is meeting her parents.

I greet her at the door with a big hug. "Hey, babe."

She pulls back and kisses me. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too." I take her hand and lead her into my apartment. "Well, this is it."

"Not much bigger than my dorm room," she observes.

"It's 600 square feet—I'd say it's bigger than your room," I respond. "Still, it's tiny."

She shoves her bag against the wall. "You only have like four weeks left anyway."

"Exactly."

Over a couple glasses of wine, I ask her about how her semester is going so far, tell her a little about my job, and then we discuss meeting her parents.

"I don't want to rehearse or anything," Piper says. "We don't have to give them all the details about staying in touch over the years."

"And I'm obviously not going to tell them I had feelings for you back then."

She shrugs. "Everything else is fair game."

"Tell me more about them."

Piper shares stories about Bill and Carol when she was growing up, and it's clear that they reek of privilege and have a certain image to uphold. Her younger brother, on the other hand, sounds like the black sheep of the family. Cal graduated from high school last spring and has a part-time job at a thrift store. He has smoked pot since he was a pre-teen, and Piper suspects he sells it for extra cash.

"Did you talk to him about the whole pot thing back when you were in therapy?" I ask around a sip of Pinot Noir.

"About taking his joints?"

I nod.

"Yeah. I told him I was the one who took them, and I said if mom and dad found out he was smoking pot, he'd be grounded for life," Piper responds.

"And?"

She shrugs. "He didn't seem to care."

I swirl the wine in my glass. "That's worrisome."

"I talk to him way more than I talk to my parents," she says. "He isn't into any other drugs—just marijuana."

I take another sip. "At least it's legal in Connecticut."

She nods. "Are you good with the whole 'meet the parents' thing?"

"I guess."

Piper scoots her chair back and walks over to me.

"More wine?" I ask.

She sits on my lap, shaking her head.

I smirk, knowing where this is headed. "Do you want something to eat?"

"No." Her eyes darken.

"Do you want to move to the bed?" I chuckle.

She kisses me, softly at first, then with more urgency. Instead of moving to the couch or the bed, Piper straddles me, lifting my sweater over my head and fiddling with the clasp of my bra. I help her unclasp it, and as soon as my breasts are free, her hand moves to one while her mouth moves to the other. I allow her to be in control. Sex with Piper is different every time, and I savor each time more than the last.

* * *

I have to go to work the following morning, but it's hard to leave a naked Piper in bed. I think about calling in sick, but it wouldn't look good, and I've yet to do that at any of my temporary jobs.

"I'll be back around 5:30." I kiss her forehead. "Maybe we can have dinner in town tonight?"

"Mmm hmm." She tugs at my shirt collar, pulling me down for a more intense kiss. "Have a good day."

It would be so easy to stay. "You too, babe."

That familiar feeling of coming home to Piper sits with me throughout the busy day. It's simple to snap back to what we all-too-briefly-had in Massachusetts, and I realize that's what I want—I want to come home to Piper every day. I remind myself it's inevitable, we just have a while to wait.

We have a casual dinner Friday evening in Manchester, and when we get back to my apartment, I can sense that Piper is anxious about our impending trip to Darien.

I dot my toothbrush with Crest. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"They basically disown me and don't finance my graduate program," she offers.

"People get student loans all the time," I respond. "That's what I did."

She rinses her mouth. "True."

"Do you really think they'd disown you?" I ask as I vigorously brush my teeth. "As in sever all ties over who you're dating?"

She wipes her mouth. "You asked me what's the worst that could happen. That's it."

I know I'm slipping into clinical mode, but it seems appropriate. "How would you feel about that?"

She changes into a loose tank top. "I don't see eye to eye with my parents about a lot of things, but I still love them."

I rinse my mouth. "What are some things you could do to remind them you love them?"

"Call them more often…even if they don't pick up, I could leave a message," she begins. "Maybe send letters or cards, asking how they're doing and telling them about my life."

I clean my face with a makeup wipe. "That would make the worst case scenario less bad."

She crawls into bed. "I guess we'll find out how it goes tomorrow."

I join her in bed and kiss her on the cheek.

"Let's talk about something more upbeat."

I pull the sheets higher and snuggle against her. "Tell me about our spring break trip."

* * *

Because Piper is heading back to Smith on Sunday morning and I have to return to Manchester, we take two separate cars to Darien. She barely touched her breakfast this morning, and I suspect anxiety is swirling in the pit of her stomach. I'll be happy when this day is over—this is a long fucking drive to hear what will most likely be disappointing news.

While my primary focus is supporting Piper, I'm also looking forward to seeing Nicky while I'm in town. If things go well with the Chapmans, I'll stay for dinner, but if they go sideways, I'll have dinner with Nicky. Piper knows she's welcome to join us, but she might feel obligated to stay overnight to privately discuss our relationship with her parents. I told her I'd stay as long as she needs me, but if there comes a time when I feel like I'm more in the way than helping, I'll leave.

Three hours later, we arrive at the Chapman house, which is far nicer than any home I've ever lived in. Nicky's house is comfortable, but it's a shack compared to this.

Piper steps out of the car, and I meet her on the edge of the well-manicured lawn.

I stretch my arms above my head. "It feels good to get out of the car."

She does the same. "That was a long drive."

"Are you ready?" I rub her shoulder.

She takes a deep breath and nods.

We walk up the driveway and Piper opens the side door. We enter a short hallway and pass the mud room that leads to the kitchen. "Mom? Dad?"

A tall, somewhat thick young adult male with ungroomed facial hair is sitting at the kitchen counter. "Pipes, hey! Welcome home." He stands and hugs her. "Mom told me you were coming, but I thought it would be later."

"Hey, Cal." After a quick embrace, she steps aside. "This is Alex."

His eyes widen. "Whoa."

I stick out my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Close your mouth." Piper nudges her brother's arm. "You're embarrassing me."

"Hi." He dusts Dorito cheese off his hand before shaking mine. "Nice to meet you…Piper didn't say you were…" He makes a face like he can't come up with an appropriate word.

She rolls her eyes. "Get it together, Cal."

"You're nothing at all like I pictured," he says through nervous laughter.

I play along. "What did you picture?"

"Don't feed into him," Piper complains with a head shake as she opens a cabinet and pulls down two glasses.

This might be the most amusing part of my day, so I ignore her request.

"I don't know…" He shrugs. "Cropped hair, short stature, tatted up lesbian."

"I'm afraid I only possess one of those things."

Piper hands me a glass of water.

He gulps. "You don't have short hair and you're sure as hell not short, so…"

"Five tattoos." I roll up my sleeve to show him my wrist. "I got this one when I was 19."

Cal looks mesmerized. "What other ink do you have on your body?"

Just as Piper is about to put an end to her brother's curiosity, her mom enters the kitchen.

"I didn't realize you'd gotten here already." She approaches Piper with a kiss on the cheek, and then eyes me up and down. "You must be Alex."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Chapman." I shake her hand.

She barely shakes mine. Her husband enters the room a minute later, and we go through the same motions. I follow them into the living room, and Piper sits on the sofa and glances up at me. I assume she wants me to sit next to her. Bill sits in the leather recliner, but Carol doesn't take a seat at first.

"Can I offer you something to eat?"

"No thank you," I say, and Piper shakes her head, taking a long sip of water.

Carol moves to the armchair and perches on the edge, legs pressed together. I wonder if she's always dressed like she's got some place fancy to go or if she decided to wear a dress for the occasion of meeting her daughter's lover.

"I remember meeting you briefly in the elevator," her dad begins. "You looked sick as I recall."

_Fuck_, that's where this is starting? I remember that day vividly. Piper had just kissed me in my office, and I bolted out of there as if I'd committed a crime. I rushed into the elevator, which stopped on the third floor and her father entered. I didn't want this conversation to begin with a lie, but I sure as hell can't tell him the truth about what had just transpired. "Yeah, I think I had a stomach bug that day."

"Piper talked about you often," he continues. "I thought you were a good therapist for my daughter, but now I've learned she had feelings for you."

"I did," Piper admits.

I poke at my glasses. "At one of our last sessions, she shared that with me, and I told that I didn't reciprocate her feelings."

Her parents glance at their daughter, seemingly anticipating a response.

"There was no mistaking her lack of interest in me," Piper replies. "She made that _very_ clear."

"Piper was my client." I shrug. "I've never had romantic feelings about someone I worked with, let alone a teenager."

Carol glances at her husband, almost as if she's checking to see if he believes me.

He crosses his arms. "Then how did this happen?"

"Like I mentioned on the phone," Piper begins. "I went to the Psi Chi conference in early October, and I ran into Alex."

I'm not going to be the one who points out flaws in her story.

"We spent some time together, and I realized how much we have in common," she finishes.

"You're saying there was no funny business before this conference?" Carol asks incredulously.

We both shake her heads, but Piper is the first to respond. "How could there be? I lived in Northampton and Alex worked at temp jobs all over the country."

Carol lifts her brows. "You're a _temp_?"

"I'm a licensed therapist," I state. "I work for a company that places counselors in clinics or hospitals all over the country when someone takes a leave of absence."

"Sometimes she works in a certain location for two weeks and other times it's more like five or six months," she explains.

"When Piper and I reconnected, I was working at a clinic in a small community just north of San Diego," I say. "I had no idea we'd hit it off like we did."

Her father visibly grimaces. "I'm sorry if this is an invasive question, but how old are you?"

"I'm 32," I reply. "Eleven years older than Piper."

I watch Piper swallow hard.

"I find it a little strange that you'd be attracted to a college senior," he says.

"So do I," I confess. "I've never dated anyone more than five years younger than me, but I think you'd agree that Piper is far more mature than your average 21-year-old."

"I'm the one who pursued this," Piper jumps in. "I think Alex was just as worried as you about starting something with a younger woman. Over time, we realized we're compatible despite the age gap."

They remain quiet for a moment, and then Bill speaks. "Until my daughter met you, she was attracted to members of the opposite sex."

"That's not entirely true," she answers. "I never told you that I was attracted to girls in high school, because I knew you wouldn't approve."

"And I don't approve now," he complains with a sneer.

Carol leans forward. "Are you saying you were a lesbian in high school?"

"This is probably going to be difficult for you to understand, but I don't define myself as gay," she tries. "I'm drawn to people with similar interests to my own; people who challenge me; people who encourage me to be the best version of myself. That's who Alex is."

Her mom gives her a preposterous look.

"Again, it's not something I expect you to comprehend," she continues. "It's not like I set out to find a female partner—it just sort of worked out that way."

"You're not worried about public perception?" her father asks.

"I've never been worried about that," Piper responds.

"I'll admit that it concerned me at first—like people would judge us as a couple because of our age difference," I say.

"But no one seems to notice, or if they do, they don't care," she replies. "We don't look like we're 11 years apart."

"That's for sure," a voice chimes in from behind.

I turn to see a grinning Cal in the entryway.

Bill eyes him. "This doesn't concern you."

"Piper's my sister, and I want her to be happy." He steps further into the room. "Alex looks a _little_ older, but if I saw them on the street, I wouldn't bat an eye."

Piper smiles at him; I'm sure she's grateful for his support.

"And so what if she's into girls?" Cal continues. "Welcome to the 21st century where people our age finally feel like they have permission to love who they love. It doesn't matter if it's a dude or a chick or if they're black or white." He raises his shoulders. "There's a whole movement towards a kinder, more accepting population. I'm all for anything that makes the world a better place."

Now that Cal is standing next to the sofa, I can tell by his dilated pupils that he's baked. Nevertheless, his statement is profound.

"Call me old school, but that's not how I see the world," Bill replies. "God made us with certain body parts in order to procreate."

"I can see where biology comes into play, and that's a logical point of view," I answer, ready to tackle whatever Bible bullshit he throws our way. "But if you believe in God, and I assume you do." I pause to watch both of her parents not rebuke the notion. "He created me and he created Piper. I don't think he made me wrong, he just made me different—I'm not wired like the majority of people. I don't _choose_ to be gay—I _am_ gay. I live a much more difficult life knowing that about myself, and I believe God didn't 'mess up' when he created Piper and I."

Carol looks away, and Bill sits back with the tip of his eyeglasses touching his lips.

"This doesn't mean I can't or won't have children," Piper adds. "I'm just not interested in having them with anyone other than Alex."

_Children_? That brings up a whole new topic that I sock away for another, more private conversation.

"Lesbians raising a child?" Her mom shakes her head as if she's thinking _what has this world come to?_

"There are more than 100,000 gay couples raising families across the country these days. It's not uncommon." She takes my hand. "I'm not saying we're getting married and having children at this point. We're still figuring out how to navigate life as a couple, especially because we live in different states."

Bill abruptly turns to me as if this whole conversation rests on my answers to his questions. "What are your intentions?"

I contemplate his question for a moment before answering, "To love your daughter every day; to support her as she pursues graduate school; to respect her as a woman and an equal partner."

He continues gawking at me, and this whole time I've wondered if he's trying to judge if he can trust me.

"I've never understood how long distance relationships work," Carol mentions, breaking the stare-down competition I seem to be in with her husband. "Do you plan to live near each other in the future?"

"I've applied to the four graduate school programs I told you about," Piper responds. "Alex hopes to get a job wherever I end up, and we'll figure things out from there."

"You're going to relocate to be with my daughter?" her dad asks.

"I've lived in 18 states over three years. It's time that I put down roots." I shrug. "It might as well be close to Piper so we can see if our relationship can function when we're in the same time zone."

"I'm not convinced that my daughter isn't simply going through a phase," he replies.

Piper glares at him. "I can assure you this isn't a phase."

He folds his arms and sits back. "In any event, you're choosing to be with another woman, and I don't support same-sex relationships."

Piper blinks at him. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Dad."

"I'm sorry this is the lifestyle you think you want."

I squeeze her hand, hoping she doesn't go toe-to-toe with him in a battle she won't win.

"We'll see what happens over the course of a year." Her mother gets to her feet. "If you're still together next February, perhaps I'll come around to accepting your relationship. It's just too soon to know if, like my husband said, this is a phase Piper is going through."

I can see tears hanging in Piper's eyes, but she doesn't allow one to fall.

"You have a special daughter," I comment. "I hope you eventually accept her for who she is. It would be a shame to miss out on seeing what an extraordinary woman she'll become."

She takes my hand and pulls me into the kitchen, and as soon as we're out of view, she wraps her arms around me and cries.

I rub her back. "Shhh…It's ok."

"It's not ok," she whispers through tears.

I had a feeling this wouldn't end well, but I applaud Piper for trying to convince her parents that she's still a good person even though she's in a same-sex relationship. I'll never understand how people connect those two things.

She pulls back, wiping her eyes. "I want to get out of here."

I nod, taking her hand and walking out the same door we entered less than an hour ago. "We can go to Nicky's house."

Piper gets into her car, and I get into mine, quickly text Nicky, and then make my way to my old house.

She meets me on the sidewalk. "We lived like two miles from each other this whole time?"

"I had no idea." I smile, glad that her tears have stopped.

"If I would've known that, I probably would've stalked you that summer before college."

I chuckle. "If I would've caught you, we probably wouldn't be where we are today."

She squeezes my hand as we walk to the front door. I still have a key, but I knock first to see if Nicky is home. Although I texted her about coming over, she hasn't messaged back.

"Hey, kids," she answers with a wide smile. "I didn't expect you til later."

We both hug her.

"I texted you a couple minutes ago."

"I was in the shower." She dries her hair with a towel. "Come in."

"I hope this isn't a bad time," Piper offers.

I follow her inside.

"It's fine." She shuts the door. "I take it things didn't go as well as you hoped with the parents."

Piper shakes her head.

I sit next in the chair next to the sofa. "It wasn't terrible, but they didn't welcome us with open arms."

Nicky puts a hand on Piper's shoulder. "Sorry, kid. Parents suck."

That causes her to let out a light laugh. "They really do."

We eat lunch, shoot the breeze, and learn more about Nicky's breakup with the baker. I can tell Piper is grateful for the conversation moving away from what just transpired at her parents' house. I'm sure she'll think about it a lot over the next few days, but a distraction is probably good for her.


	17. Chapter 17

Rated M for Mature

* * *

That night, the three of us go to a bar I used to frequent, and it turns out that Piper has never been to a gay bar.

"Everyone looks so happy," she comments over the upbeat music.

"Except maybe that couple over there," Nicky points. "If the blonde one is on the rebound, I'd be more than happy to console her."

"What do you want to drink?" I ask.

They tell me their order, and I approach the bar while they find an open table near the dance floor. I watch Piper interact with my old friend and appreciate the way Nicky makes her laugh. She's been with me through some pretty shitty times, and I could always count on her sense of humor to lift my spirits.

"One Sam Adams and a margarita." I set the glasses down, then pull out the red leather stool next to Piper. "Any good eye candy?"

"I see a few future Mrs. Nicols in the place." Nicky glances around the room. "Like the tall brunette by the pool table."

I squeeze a lime wedge into my vodka soda. "She's not bad."

"Is this what you used to do together?" Piper asks, seemingly fascinated by our scanning the room for hot chicks.

"All the time." Nicky sips her beer. "Although Vause never had to do any legwork—the women flocked to her."

"That's not true," I reply.

"Oh, yeah? Name one time when you picked up a chick by approaching her rather than vice versa."

I stir my drink with a thin, black straw. "I approached women all the time."

Nicky eyes Piper. "Your girlfriend is lying."

"I can see why." Piper rubs my thigh under the table. "She's the hottest woman in here."

Nicky raises her beer bottle. "That'll always be true."

"Did you two ever…"

I want to say, _God, no_, but I settle for a simple, "No."

"I'm not her type."

Piper turns to me. "You have a type?"

"Smart, classy straight girls," Nicky answers for her. "The harder the woman was to get, the more attracted she was to her."

"Is that what I was to you?"

"You weren't straight." I place my hand on her knee. "At least that's what you told me early on in our sessions."

"I told you I thought about girls in a sexual way, that's true," she replies. "But I considered myself straight."

"You were different." I shrug, leaving it at that.

Nicky covers Piper's hand. "You _are_ different, blondie. Trust me."

I lean over, kissing the corner of Piper's mouth.

"I'm going to chat up a few of the patrons." Nicky stands. "Excuse me."

"I like her a lot," Piper says once my friend is out of earshot.

"I'm glad." I sip my cocktail. "She'll keep you laughing, that's for sure."

Piper smiles and watches her talk to a woman on the other side of the bar.

"This is the first time we've been to a bar together," I say.

"It is." She returns her attention to me. "I wanted you to take me out for my 21st birthday."

I hold her hand. "I remember."

"What do you think would've happened if we went out together then?"

I take a deep breath through my nose as I consider her question. "You would've gotten tipsy if not all-out drunk," I surmise. "Maybe gotten a little handsy."

"Like this?" She rubs her fingertips up and down my thigh, arousing me with each pass.

"Yeah." I take another sip.

"Would you have resisted if I did this?" She leans over, kissing a trail up my neck.

I tilt my head, hand resting on her waist. "Probably not."

Her light kisses reach my jawline and ultimately my mouth. I swivel my chair and open my legs to allow Piper's knee to settle between them. I raise my hand to her cheek as I deepen the kiss. She moans, and I realize this is going to get hot in a matter of seconds. I scoot my chair back and stand, taking her hand.

Piper looks surprised—like she was perfectly content to makeout in public.

I lead her to the bathroom, look under the two stalls, and then shove her against the porcelain sink, hands weaving into her hair.

She puts her hands on my ass, tugging me closer and leaning into our savage kiss. "Lock the door."

Without removing my mouth from hers, I twist the lock into place, and then hike up her dress, tugging at her panties. My fingers find her clit in an instant, and she arches her hips towards me. I hoist her until she's sitting on the sink with her legs spread, and then I dive down to lick her. I don't attempt to remove her underwear completely, so it's shoved to the side against my nose as I bury my mouth in her center. Piper's hands swirl in my hair, and I look up to see her head arched back, touching the mirror. As soon as she starts bucking into me, I know she's close. I insert a finger into her tight opening as I continue lapping at her wet pussy.

"Unnnhh, Alex!" An orgasm rips through her as I curl my finger to find her G-spot.

A knock at the door doesn't faze her as she moans and yells my name. When I'm certain she's done, I twist my neck and say, "Just a minute" to the person outside.

"What the fuck?" the woman yells.

I stand, feeling a crick in my back and watching Piper's satisfied grin turn into a full smile. I pull her underwear back into place as I kiss her deeply.

"That was so fucking hot," she says against my mouth.

I smirk. "It was."

I help her off the sink and then use the other sink to wash my hands. Piper brushes her hair with her fingers and adjusts her dress, trying to look as presentable as she was when we first stepped into the restroom.

"Are you fucking deaf?" the woman outside yells. "Don't make me get the manager!"

"You good?" I ask, taking her hand.

She nods.

"Sorry," I say as we hurry past the dyke, both giggling. I lead us back to our table, where Nicky is sitting with the woman she was trying to pursue. "Vause, Piper, I'd like you to meet Ronnie."

We both shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Anybody up for shots?" Nicky asks. "I'm buying."

Piper raises her hand. "I'm in."

"One shot, but that's all," I reply, rubbing her lower back. "Somebody's got to drive us home."

Nicky sticks her elbow in my side. "That's what Uber and Lyft are for."

She and her new flavor of the night approach the bar, giving me a private moment with Piper. "Are you ok?"

She leans her forehead against mine. "My pussy is still tingling."

I smirk and kiss the tip of her nose.

There's so much to love about Piper. In addition to the whole intelligent, beautiful, confident stuff, she's up for just about anything. I didn't know if she'd be comfortable fucking in a public restroom, but I'm glad she wasn't just 'ok' with it—she actually enjoyed the thrill of it.

We do a round of shots, and then I buy Piper another margarita. I lay off the alcohol and settle for seltzer water with lime. If she wants to get drunk tonight, I'll take care of her. I'm sure there will be times in the future when the opposite is true. I've never been with her in that state, but I heard her slur on the phone the night she celebrated her 21st birthday in Boston. The more Piper drinks, the louder she becomes. It's comical. She's also more handsy than she is when she's sober, but I'm not complaining.

After her third margarita, she wants to dance. "This is our song!"

"I didn't realize we had a song," I chuckle.

She pulls me under the disco ball where five or six other lesbians are dancing and starts shimmying to the song, _Touch_. When Shura sings, _I wanna touch you but there's history. I can't believe that it's been three years_, I understand why Piper referred to it as 'our song.' I step closer, allowing her to put her hands all over my body. She closes her eyes and sings along: _And all I wanna do is go home with you, but I know I'm out of my mind._

She strings her arms around my neck, and our bodies move in sync. I kiss a trail down her cheek to her neck, pushing her hair back with my nose and nuzzling her ear. The way she writhes against me is enough to get me all worked up again, and I want to pull her into the bathroom and fuck her again.

"I didn't know you could dance," I whisper.

She smirks, then turns around, moving her ass against my center. I put my hands on her hips and move with her. I can count on one hand the number of times I've thought Piper was undeniably sexy, and this tops the list. I've always thought she was beautiful, but _sexy_ isn't a word I typically associate with her. She splays her hands on the outside of my thighs, continuing to move her hips, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer. The way she's dancing puts pressure on my clit, and I feel all tingly.

At the end of the song, she turns around, kissing me, tongue begging for entrance. I snarl my hands in her hair, angling my head and savoring the sloppy kiss.

"Get a room."

I open my eyes to see Nicky grinning at us with Ronnie in tow.

Piper's gaze travels to Nicky. "I forgot where I was for a second. I'm also very drunk."

"We're going to head out." I run my hand down Piper's arm and link our fingers. "Want a ride or are you going to hang out a little longer?"

"I'm going to stick around." Nicky pokes an elbow in Alex's side. "Don't wait up for me."

I leave the bar and escort a wobbly Piper to the car. "Are you going to puke?"

She shakes her head.

"You sure?"

She nods. "Positive."

I get into the driver's seat and she immediately puts a hand high on my thigh. "I want to taste you, Alex."

I grin. "We'll be home in like 15 minutes."

"_Now_," she demands, crawling over the armrest.

"Hang on, babe," I chuckle as I fend her off with one arm. "Let me at least pull over."

Piper and I have yet to do anything even remotely racy, and as lewd things go, this is pretty tame, so I pull into the first parking lot we come upon, which happens to be a strip mall with a Chinese restaurant, bagel shop, computer repair store, and a physical therapy clinic, all of which are closed. There's one streetlight in the lot, but I pull into a stall as far away from it as possible. No sooner do I put the car in park than Piper is climbing over the armrest to straddle me.

"Can we at least move to the back seat?" I'm highly amused by her drunken antics. If I would've known three drinks and a shot would make her horny, I'd have liquored her up a long time ago. Then again, Piper has a healthy libido and has never needed booze to be in the mood for sex.

"Mmm mmm," she mumbles against my mouth. "Here."

I reach down to push the seat as far back as it can go and recline it until the headrest hits the back seat. While I'm entertained by Piper's actions, I'm also turned on. I've only fucked a woman in public once, which was in an alley in Zurich back in my cartel days, and back then I was high as a kite.

"Hang on," I say as she fumbles with my pants. I unzip my jeans, and Piper's hand slides into my underwear.

"You're wet." She grins, rubbing my juices up and down my slit.

I return her sloppy kiss and arch into her hand.

"I want to taste you," she repeats, shimmying down my body. "I can't with the…" She moves back to the passenger seat and dips her head low until it hovers over my center. One hand toys with my pussy and the other reaches for my breast.

"_Fuck_." I let my head fall back and allow the feeling of Pipers tongue on my clit take over my senses. The sounds she's making along with the sucking sensation and knowing we could get caught at any moment makes me cum hard and furious against her mouth.

When I come down from the high, I notice all the windows are fogged up.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then kisses me. "I love doing that to you."

I place a hand on the back of her head and smile. "Thank you."

She caresses my cheek. "Did you want me to do that to you when I was your client?"

I zip my pants and put the seat back into its normal position. "I didn't allow myself to think about you that way back then."

"I thought about you doing it to me," she admits.

I start the car and put the defrost on blast.

Chances are she won't even remember this conversation tomorrow. "I did touch myself when you sent that picture of you in a bikini during spring break of your first year of college."

Her eyes widen. "You did?"

"That was the first time I thought about you sexually," I confess. "And it pretty much opened the flood gates."

She kisses me again as the windows defrost. "That's hot."

As I'm about to shift into drive, I hear a car pull up next to us. It's not just any car—it's a police car.

"Shit, Alex," she says, moving fully back to her seat and buckling her seatbelt.

"Don't say anything. Let me handle this." I roll down the window as one of the officers approaches the car.

"Evening, ladies. You mind telling me why you're parked here when all the businesses are closed?" He asks while smoothing his pornstar-like mustache.

"I'm driving my friend home," I reply. "She thought she was going to throw up, so I pulled into the lot."

He bends at the waist and shines his flashlight in the car.

"I had three margaritas," Piper confesses.

"Are you old enough to drink, young lady?"

She nods vigorously.

I close my eyes and clench my jaw, wishing she would've remained silent before she gets us _both_ into trouble.

He clicks his minty bubblegum. "Show me your identification…you know, just in case you're not quite 21."

Piper reaches into her purse. "My birthday was on June 7 as you'll see on my license."

He glances at her license, then hands it back to her. He casts his eyes towards me. "How many drinks have _you_ had, ma'am?"

"I'm a substance abuse counselor; I know better than to drink and drive," I respond without divulging that I had a vodka soda and a shot of tequila.

"You're a professional, are you? Doesn't mean you're above the law." He laughs, then turns serious. "License and registration, please, then step out of the car."

"Alex is the responsible one," Piper says, leaning towards the window.

"_Shut. Up_." I whisper through gritted teeth as I search for my ID.

He saunters back to the cop car and hands my license to the other officer inside the vehicle. "Run it, Bell."

I'm confident I didn't have enough to drink to fail a sobriety test, but I'd rather not have to prove it.

The male officer makes me go through three field sobriety tests, which I handle with ease, and then the other officer calls Pornstache back to the cop car. They talk about something for a minute, and then the female officer exits with a breathalyzer in hand.

He holds up my license and glances at me. "Looks like you're a felon, Ms. Vause."

"That was ten years ago." I run my hand through my hair and look away. I hate to be reminded of that dark part of my life. "I did my time."

"I sure hope you don't find yourself behind bars again," he says, lacking all sincerity.

"I've proven that I'm sober with all your little tests," I say. "Do I really need to blow into that thing?"

"In Connecticut, you aren't legally required to blow into a breathalyzer, but there are significant ramifications if you don't," the female cop responds.

"Is everything alright?" Piper asks through the open window.

"She's had one too many." I glare at her, hoping she understands that she needs to shut the fuck up.

Pornstache blows a bubble. "Well, aren't you the responsible adult, taking this young lady home."

I'm dying to call him a _fucking_ _prick_, but I refrain.

The female officer administers the test, and I shove my shaking hands into my pockets while I wait ten excruciating seconds for the results to show up. "Congrats, you're not legally drunk."

_Thank fucking God_. "Like I said from the start."

"You shouldn't be in this parking lot," the woman says. "There's a private property sign right there."

"My girlfriend had to puke, and instead of pulling over on the dark, two-lane highway, I thought this parking lot was a safer option."

"Lesbians, huh?" The male cop raises his eyebrows. "I thought I smelled sex. Were you two fingering in there before we arrived?"

"Fuck you!" I spit out. "What's your badge number?" I will hunt this mother fucker down and destroy him.

"Mendez, that's enough," the female cop says sternly. "Let's go."

He glances at Piper and licks his lips suggestively before walking back to the police car.

I return to the driver's seat, rolling up the window and breathing heavily.

"That was a close call," Piper says.

"I asked you not to say anything, but you couldn't stay quiet, could you?" I snap at her.

She shakes her head. "Nothing I said was incriminating."

I crease my brows. "You really think it helped when you admitted you drank three margaritas?"

"_My_ drinking had nothing to do with you!"

"Piper, I had a stiff drink and a shot of tequila at the bar!" I yell. "If I would've drank them less than an hour ago, I would've gotten a fucking DUI! Do you know what that would do to my career?"

She looks sheepish.

I let my head fall back and shut my eyes. She's still too drunk to understand how her actions could've hurt me, so it's no sense trying to explain this to her right now. I pull out of the parking lot and remain silent as we make our way back to Nicky's house.

I shove my key in the door and let her enter first.

"I'm sorry," she offers.

I toss my keys on the side table and move to the kitchen. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

She leans against the doorframe. "Are you mad at me?"

I look her in the eyes. "We'll talk in the morning." I open a bottle of orange Gatorade. "Drink this."

"Why?"

"It helps with dehydration." I move past her and into the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. "If you want to wash your face, there's the bathroom. Towels are in the closet to the right."

She opens the closet and pulls out a washcloth. "Do you know where my bag is?"

I walk into my old bedroom and retrieve the duffle bag. "Here."

"Thank you." She enters the bathroom and closes the door.

It's the first time since Piper was a teenager that I've been upset with her. Of course, back then, it was because she'd gotten under my skin. This time, she almost got me in trouble with the law again. This had the potential of long-term consequences.

I quickly shed my clothes, and as I pull off my underwear, I notice how gross they are. That's when I recall what transpired prior to the cops showing up. I quickly bunch them up, tucking them into a plastic bag along with my blouse and socks. The last thing I want to think about right now is sex.

Piper enters the bedroom. "I'm sorry, Alex." She looks pitiful, and it's hard not to pull her into my arms and tell her everything is ok.

I shake my head. "I know."

She sits on the bed. "I'm not as drunk as I was earlier, so if you want to talk…"

"I don't, actually." I grab my pajamas and stand in the doorway. "Drink that Gatorade, and then get some sleep."

"Are you sleeping in the other room?" she asks with sadness in her voice.

"No," I respond. "I'm all sweaty and gross. I'm going to take a shower. Hopefully by the time I'm done, you'll be asleep." I leave her there, and it breaks my heart. I know she didn't mean to almost get me in trouble, but sometimes she doesn't know when to stop talking. I'm sure this isn't the first time her mouth has gotten in the way.

One of the things I love about Piper is how expressive she is. She never holds back even if whatever she has to say will be difficult to hear. That's been true since we met. How many 18-year-old girls would have the guts to tell a woman in a position of power that they're attracted to her? Piper's passion is palpable—I never have to wonder what she's thinking. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I admire that about her. Tonight is not one of those times.

I finish my shower, and then take my time brushing my teeth and drying my hair. If things go well with Ronnie tonight, Nicky won't be home until morning. That might work out better for me and Piper anyway.

I enter the bedroom quietly, and Piper is lying on her side in bed, breathing steadily. She lets out a soft snore, and I can't help smiling. When she's awake, she's a force of nature, but when she's asleep, she's dead to the world. I crawl in bed next to her, place a soft kiss on her shoulder, and then try to sleep off my irritation.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, my mouth is so dry that I can't even swallow. I smack my lips together and try to get enough saliva to ease the soreness of my throat. I prop myself on my elbow and look around the room, not remembering where I am or how I got here. I glance to my right, but the bed is empty. I sit up and rub my eyes with balled fists.

"Alex?" my voice is hoarse. I clear my throat and try again. "Al?"

Nothing.

I step out of bed and remember that we're at Nicky's house. We went to a gay bar, fucked in the bathroom, danced, and then drove back here. What am I missing? I slip into my pajama pants that are strewn across the foot of the bed when it hits me: I went down on Alex in the car. I blush at the thought of it. I've only been that drunk one other time in my life, and that was during the pub crawl in Boston for my 21st birthday, but even then, I didn't forget any part of the night.

I open the squeaky bedroom door. "Alex?" I walk down the hallway to the living room to find her reading the newspaper on the sofa.

She looks up. "Hey."

"Hi. What time is it?"

She takes a sip of coffee. "Almost nine."

I scratch my head and feel my hair sticking up. "How bad do I look?"

"Pretty fucking bad," she chuckles as she gives me a once-over, but something in her eyes makes me think she's upset with me.

I sit next to her on the edge of the sofa. "Is Nicky here?"

She glances at her phone. "I just got a text from her, saying she spent the night at Ronnie's."

"Ronnie?" I try to place that name. "Oh, the woman she met at the bar."

Alex hands me her coffee.

I take a sip. "I don't remember much about last night."

Her eyebrows rise. "Really?"

"I remember what we did in the bathroom at the bar, and then I wanted to have sex with you in the car."

She bites the inside of her cheek and nods as if I'm missing something.

"I went down on you in the parking lot of a strip mall." I rub my lower back as the memory returns. "That's why my back hurts."

She takes the coffee cup back. "Is that _all_ you remember?"

"There was something else, but…" I shake my head. "I can't…"

"The cops?" she baits me.

Suddenly, it dawns on me. "The cops…that was _real_?"

"Yeah," Alex laughs incredulously. "You seriously don't remember?"

I rest my elbows on my knees and rub my temples, trying to ward off what's sure to be a terrible headache. "The man had a mustache and made you do sobriety tests." It's coming back to me now. "And there was another officer—a woman—who had a breathalyzer." I reach for her. "Alex, did you get a DUI?"

"Almost."

My hand flies to my mouth. "Oh my God."

She sits there, nodding slowly.

"I did something bad…" I recall. "I told the cop that I had three margaritas. You kept telling me to not say anything, but I didn't listen…Did I get you in trouble?"

"If you would've kept your thoughts to yourself, they probably wouldn't have suspected I was intoxicated."

I lift my brows. "_Were_ you?"

"I blew a .06."

"That's very close to being legally drunk," I reply. "You…I…Alex, I'm so sorry." I place a hand on her leg.

"You can't do that, babe." She pushes the newspaper aside and strings a chunk of unruly hair behind my ear. "I've never seen you drunk before, but now I know what you're like in that state."

"I shouldn't have said a word."

"No, you shouldn't have." She holds my hand. "And you probably shouldn't have had three margaritas."

"And a tequila shot," I remind her.

"Right," she replies. "I know you mean well and all, but if I ever ask you to stop talking, it's for a good reason."

"I wasn't in the right frame of mind to listen to reason," I admit. "I was wasted, Alex. I don't think I've ever been that drunk."

"Now you know your limit," she says. "I don't mind if you drink; hell, I don't mind if you get drunk, but if it involves transportation or being in public, maybe just stick to a couple drinks and lots of water."

I nod.

"I'm partly to blame," Alex confesses. "Nicky bought the tequila shot, but I bought you those drinks."

"How could you have known how shitfaced I'd get?" I shrug. "We were having fun."

"Dangerous fun," she says.

"Sex in the bathroom, and then in the car?" I ask, feeling a blush spread across my cheeks.

She raises one eyebrow. "Yeah."

"I've never had sex in public," I confess. "And I did it twice in the same night."

She laughs lightly.

"From what I remember, both times were hot," I try.

"They were, until the police showed up."

I put a hand on her cheek. "I'm really sorry, Al. I shouldn't have put you in that position."

She turns her head, kissing my inner wrist. "I'm sure it won't happen again."

"It won't." I kiss her.

Alex makes breakfast for me, and as we sit down to eat pancakes and sausage, Nicky breezes in.

"What a night, huh?"

"It didn't end up great for us," Alex says, pouring two glasses of orange juice.

"What happened?"

Alex and I tag team in telling the story, and there's no way we can leave the part about car sex out, so I let her tackle that part.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute…" Nicky laughs. "You went down on her in the parking lot next to Mandarin Garden? I'll never be able to unsee that image when I order Chinese takeout."

I'm terribly embarrassed. "Did I mention how drunk I was?"

Nicky flips a pancake onto a plate. "This is comedy gold."

"It wasn't funny when the police showed up."

Nicky makes light of the situation, making me feel a little better, but I understand that my mouth almost got us in big trouble. She tells us about her night with Ronnie and that they have a date scheduled tonight. That reminds me that I have to drive back to Northampton in a couple hours.

"When should we head out?" Alex asks.

"I have a study group at five," I respond, handwashing the dishes. "I skipped the last one, and we're working on a group project, so I can't miss this one."

"Let's get cleaned up, and then we can get on the road."

I take a quick shower, letting the hot water slap my skin, and then my mind drifts to the conversation with my parents yesterday. Other than a few moments of happiness, this hasn't been the best trip. I dry off, slipping into a clean pair of jeans, and that's when I remember that Alex and I aren't going to the same place—she has to return to Manchester. Yet another reason to sulk.

We say our goodbyes to Nicky, and then walk to our cars.

"I hate leaving you," I say with downcast eyes.

She pulls me close, kissing my hairline. "I'll come to Northampton next weekend."

"That's six days from now."

"At least it's not seven," she offers.

I crane my neck up to kiss her. "Thank you for everything. For talking to my parents, for taking me out, for forgiving my stupid mouth."

She lets out a small laugh as her thumb rubs my cheek.

"I love you, Alex."

"Love you, too." She kisses me again. "Drive safe and text when you get home."

I nod, and then release her. As I drive in the opposite direction, tears sting my eyes. I know this is just a shitty time in my life and things will get better, but the last thing I want is to be separated from her.

* * *

My priority over the next two months has to be school, so from Sunday night through Friday afternoon, that's where my focus is. Alex and I talk every day, but our conversations don't last more than 30 minutes. We take turns visiting each other, and when she comes to me, we get a hotel room rather than staying in my tiny dorm room. Besides, it's not fair for me to ask Polly to leave our shared room for the weekend.

Alex has given me a budget of $3,000 to plan our spring break trip. Back in December when the idea of a trip came up, I wanted to go to the Bahamas or the Virgin Islands, but that's not in the cards for this brief vacation. Alex wants to be surprised about where we're headed, so I don't tell her many details other than the deal I got on the plane tickets and that she'll need to bring a swimsuit.

My parents have not spoken to me, which isn't a surprise. I talk to Cal every other week, and he tells me they barely mention my name. It saddens me to think this is what our relationship has come to. If I take my mom at her word, perhaps she'll be more accepting of Alex in a year. Cal, for his part, always asks about her. He admits she's "way hotter than me," but he's glad I've found someone who makes me happy.

The first bit of good news arrives in my Inbox the last week of March. I quickly scan the letter, and then call Alex.

"Hey," she answers on the second ring. "Did you forget to tell me something?"

We spoke on the phone a couple hours ago, so I understand why she'd think that.

"I just got an e-mail from U Conn…"

"And?"

"I got in!" I squeal. "I mean, it's not my top choice, but still."

"That's great news, babe," she replies with exuberance. "I knew you'd get in."

"Thank you. I should hear from the other three colleges by the end of the week."

"I'm sure more good news is on the way," she says.

"I have to get to class, but I just wanted to tell you." I strap my bag across my body and head out the door.

I can hear her smiling "I'm glad you called."

"Thanks, talk later."

The following day, I hear from two more colleges, including San Diego State, and I've been admitted to both. I relay the news to Alex who is equally excited. The dream of leaving New England is real, and I couldn't be happier.

The issue that looms over us is where Alex will work when I go to grad school. Her job in Manchester will end next week, and she's already agreed to take a placement at a hospital near Saratoga Springs after our trip. The drive from there is about the same distance as Manchester, which has proven to be doable. She's asked her company to be on the lookout for opportunities in the San Diego area, but they can't anticipate her next placement any more than she can.

I drive to Manchester one last time the weekend before Alex says goodbye to New Hampshire. She greets me as she always does with a hug and a kiss, and we scurry inside when the skies open up and thunder crashes.

"Still no news from UCSD?" she asks as she pours a glass of wine.

"Not as of this morning," I reply. "But I haven't checked my e-mail since I woke up." I open my Inbox on my phone and see that there is, in fact, an e-mail from their Admissions office. "Wait, I got something."

Alex stands behind me as I open the e-mail.

"Congratulations, you've been admitted to the…" I turn to her with a hand over my mouth. "I got in!"

"You did!"

I stand, throwing my arms around her. "I can't believe it!"

She kisses my cheek. "I can."

"You've always been so positive," I comment, reaching for my phone to read the rest of it. "This is amazing, Al."

She smiles. "It is."

We order pizza and spend the night, listing the pros and cons of each graduate program where I've been admitted. U Conn is out, and I never really loved the idea of going to U Mass, Amherst, which means it's down to SDSU and UCSD. We go online to look at my financial aid package at both, and SDSU is slightly less expensive, but the housing costs are more. We discuss living on campus versus living in an apartment, and I realize it's the first time we've talked about moving in together.

"You realize what we're talking about here," I say.

She pops the last bit of pizza crust into her mouth. "What?"

"Moving in together," I respond with a hint of nervousness.

She finishes swallowing before replying, "Yeah."

"We've never really discussed it."

Alex sips her wine. "I thought it was a foregone conclusion."

"And you're ok with that?"

"With us living together?" She wipes her mouth. "Yeah. Are you?"

"Of course I am." I lean over to kiss her. "But this is a big step for us."

"It doesn't feel like it," she says. "I mean, it feels natural—like this is what's supposed to happen next."

I smile tenderly. "It does."

We continue looking at housing options over the next hour, and it appears that living on campus at UCSD would be about $500 less than even a few shitty apartments in San Diego, plus the dorms are less than a mile from the beach. My next task will be to find out if I can live with a non-student.

Alex stretches. "I'm exhausted. It's been a big week."

I yawn. "Same."

We slip into our routine of getting ready for bed, and I love the way we move around each other. Every part of our relationship is in sync, and I'm grateful that this is how our relationship turned out to be.

* * *

Author's Note: Short filler chapter, but I'll post another chapter tomorrow. Hope you're hanging in there with me! Thanks as always for the reviews!


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: I posted a quick response on my Tumblr account to a reviewer who had concerns about Piper's age and Alex acting motherly. Thanks for the kudos after that last chapter—I thought of it as a filler, but I'm pleased to see it hit the mark for many of you. **This chapter is rated M for Mature**.

* * *

Piper's spring break rolls around, and I was able to get two days off work, so we're flying _somewhere_ and spending four nights in a hotel. She told me to pack for warm, sunny weather, so I bought two new bikinis and a couple of lightweight dresses. Because we both live in small towns, we have to fly in and out of Boston, which is where we meet before our flight.

"I guess now is when you find out where we're going," she says, handing me a printed boarding pass before we go through security.

I grin when I see the destination. "Miami?"

She nods. "We're staying in South Beach at a hotel called The Beacon. The rooms are normally $400 a night, but if you stay four nights, they drop 20 percent."

"This is awesome. I can't wait." I squeeze her hand. "Thanks for planning the trip."

"I had fun doing it."

Although our seats are in the back of the airplane, the ride isn't long and I'm ready to spend time with Piper outside of our normal lives. I also can't wait to see her in a bikini because this time, I get to touch her rather than touch myself while looking at a picture of her. She also looks a little different now—more curves, less gangly.

We take an Uber to the hotel and marvel at the people walking along Ocean Avenue. There's every shape, size and gender, but I can't help but be drawn to the gay men, prancing around in teeny shorts and no shirts with their chests puffed out.

"This is it." Piper gets out of the car and stares up at the high rise.

There's a patio bar with bass-thumping music outside just like at the rest of the hotels on the strip, and I can't wait to sit under an oversized umbrella out here and have a tropical drink. The lobby is all whites and oranges, and now it feels like we're really in Miami. The same music is playing inside, just at a much lower volume.

We take the elevator to the 14th floor, and our room décor is similar to that of the lobby with splashes of blue throughout the space. Although there's no balcony, we have a view of the ocean.

She opens the curtains. "Look at this."

I string my arms around her waist from behind and admire the view. "Gorgeous."

"What should we do first?"

I kiss the side of her head. "You should change into your bathing suit."

"I don't know why you're so excited to see me in a bikini." She turns in my arms. "You see me naked all the time."

"Naked is not the same as wearing a bikini," I offer.

"Then I want to see you in yours." Piper escapes my grasp and hoists her suitcase onto the luggage rack.

I sit on the king-sized bed. "You first."

"Don't you want to check out the pool or go for a walk on the beach?"

I toss my hair over my shoulders. "Yeah, after."

"Tell you what." She saunters over to me. "Why don't we change separately, and then meet at the pool?"

I give her a look like I don't understand her logic.

"If you see me in my bikini in the hotel room, it's going to be…normal." She strings her arms around my neck. "If you see me in it when I'm laying by the pool, there's a sense of voyeurism that I think you might enjoy."

"But then I can't untie the skimpy little straps." I place my hands on her hips. "And then have my way with you."

"Imagine the anticipation of touching me," she tries.

"I don't know how long I'll be able to last." I lift her shirt slightly to kiss her toned stomach.

She steps out of my reach. "If you don't have the self-control to restrain from groping me in public, we'll come back to the room."

Now she's fucking with me. "I have plenty of self-control, it's just that I don't want to exercise it at this moment."

"Sorry." Piper shrugs. "I'm going to change in here. Why don't you get us some ice or something, then change clothes and meet me by the pool?"

She's absolutely killing me, and the worst part is—she knows it.

Nevertheless, I grab the silver bucket in search of the ice machine while Piper changes in our room. We've only been together for six months, and we don't see each other daily, so I consider it a young relationship. I get excited about seeing her every week, and I still find new ways to pleasure her in bed. Piper is still learning how to be with a woman, and while she's always made me feel great physically, she gets better as time goes on. When she's in Northampton and I'm God knows where, I think about her sexually at least once a day. I've never had carnal desire for another woman the way I do with Piper.

After going to the 6th floor for ice, I make my way back to our room and knock before inserting the cardkey. "Are you in here?" When I hear nothing, I step inside. "Piper?" I set the ice bucket on the dresser, and then dig in my bag for the black and white bikini that I brought. I tried it on before our trip, and I looked fine. We'll see what Piper has to say.

I go into the bathroom to change, and on the counter is a light green bikini with multi-colored straps. I read the scribbled note next to it: _I'll wear this one tomorrow_. Well, fuck.

I make my way down to the pool on the second floor deck, and as soon as I step outside, I hear similar music to what was playing in the lobby earlier. The area around the pool is crowded, but there appears to be at least three or four empty lounge chairs. I scan the crowd until my eyes land on Piper, and I almost drop my sunhat. She's wearing a white bikini with gold trim that ties on her hips. The little triangles that cover her tits leave nothing to the imagination. I'm one lucky woman.

I put on my thick, black-rimmed sunglasses and walk over to her. "You were right."

She's rubbing suntan oil on her arms. "About what?"

"I have no self-control."

"That's a shame." Piper smirks. "I'm all oiled up now, and I can't go back inside like this."

"I can help with that." I reach for the bottle.

"Take off your cover up."

I toss my flouncy sunhat onto the lounge chair next to her, then pull the teal dress-like cover up over my head and stand in front of her.

She eyes me up and down, lowering her Aviators. "You're so fucking hot."

If I thought we could get away with it, I'd fuck her right here; instead, I'm going to make this as difficult for her as it is for me. I sit on the chair and squirt some oil onto my hands. Piper turns halfway around, allowing me full access to her back. I rub her skin suggestively, allowing my fingertips to touch the sides of her breasts and dip into her bikini bottoms.

"That feels good," she says, head rolling back.

I rub it onto her shoulders and neck, and then stretch my arms around her waist to get some on her stomach. My fingers dip into the low waistband in the front of her bikini bottoms and I feel where her pubic hair begins. She doesn't have much, but the texture of it sends shivers throughout my body.

"All done," I say.

"Can I do you?"

I hand the oil back to her. "I need a little bit more protection than SPF2." I pull out a bottle of SPF30. I know it's not sexy, but it's either this or me burning so bad that she won't be able to touch me for the duration of our stay; I won't have that.

"Can I offer you two something to drink?" A scantily clad waitress with big, fake tits approaches us.

"I'll have a pina colada," she replies.

"Two." I hand Piper the Hawaiian Tropic. "Will you get my back."

Piper does to me what I did to her minutes ago, and now I feel all tingly. "Next time we go on vacation, we're renting a house with a private pool."

She chuckles.

We drink our pina coladas and lay out for nearly an hour, and it's so hot that Piper decides to take a dip in the pool. She stands, pulling the thin material out of her ass, and I wish those were my fingers on her.

I watch her step into the pool, and her skin glistens in the sun. With each step, her thigh muscles flex, and I have the urge to join her just so I can touch her body even in a non-sexual way. She makes it all the way in, then ducks under the water, coming up and flattening her wet, blonde hair.

"Come in. It's refreshing."

There's another couple in the pool, holding hands and talking in the deep end.

I debate whether I want to get wet or not, and then decide what the hell. "It's cold," I mention as I take my first step into the crystal blue water.

She walks over to me. "It's not bad once you're all the way in."

I take a few more steps, feeling my skin prickle and meet her in the 4-feet deep part of the pool.

She wraps her arms around my waist underwater. "I couldn't wait to touch you."

I drape mine over her shoulders. "Same." I lean in for a kiss.

She's the one who intensifies it.

"Are we really going to give these people a show?" I ask, nipping at her lower lip.

"I'm not going to fondle your tits or stick my hands in your bikini bottoms if that's what you're asking." Betraying her words, Piper's fingertips dip under my waistband onto the curve of my ass.

"You're devious," I comment.

She raises her shoulders. "I'm the one who put my hands underwater first."

I lean in to kiss her again. "I _really_ want to fuck you right now, babe."

"You can't."

I look around the pool to see that most patrons aren't paying attention to us. There's a man at the far end who appears to be watching us, and he lowers his book to cover his swimming trunks. He probably has a hard-on. Gross.

"Let's go upstairs," I offer.

She sighs. "Fine."

"If you really want to stay out here, we can," I say. "I'm just surprised you don't want this as much as I do."

"Oh, I do." She leans closer. "I'm just a little more patient than you are."

I take her hand, leading her out of the pool. "I'll let you win that argument."

She grabs a towel and dries her face first, and I'm left staring at her body in that skimpy fucking bikini. I don't know if I've ever wanted her this much. Even the first time we had sex I didn't have this kind of desire.

We enter the empty elevator, and I press the button to our floor, and as soon as the doors shut, Piper is all over me. I place my hands on her face, returning her fervent kiss and feel her fingers creep down my sides. The elevator dings, and we step off, still tangled up in each other.

"Key," she mumbles against my mouth.

I push her against the wall and kiss her even deeper. That lasts another minute before Piper reaches into her small beach bag, pulling out the cardkey. We enter the room, and I swiftly remove her cover up, then pull back and stare at her bikini-clad body. My hands cover her tits first; she moans.

"I knew what this would do to me," I say before kissing her again.

Sometimes it's hard to fathom that she's mine—that I get to fuck her whenever I want to, and she loves it.

Our hands roam each other's bodies, and I can't get enough of her slick skin. The silence is filled with sounds of kissing, which turns me on even more. I untie the strap around her neck, letting the material fall and revealing her hard nipples. I take one in my mouth as one hand travels to her center. That fiery feeling in my belly rumbles, and I need to quench my desire. With other women, when I got to this point of sex, I needed her to get me off, but with Piper, it's the opposite. Above all else, I want to make her feel good. My reward is the way her body reacts to my touch.

I untie the strings low on her hips and immediately replace the fabric with my hand. Piper lets out a low, satisfied moan. My mouth returns to hers as we kiss. She tugs at the hem of my cover up, so I rip it over my head, and then place my hand back where it was before. She walks us backwards until my legs hit the dresser, and I spin us around, hoisting her onto the wooden surface. I kiss a trail down her body until landing on her thigh, and then I get on my knees and blink up at her. Piper always has a look of anticipation and desire in her eyes before I go down on her, and this time is no exception. As soon as my lips touch her center, she arches towards me and lets out a low moan.

If I have any complaints about sex with Piper it's that she cums too quickly. This time, she's able to endure almost five minutes of me licking her before she explodes into a loud orgasm that I'm sure any passers-by would hear.

I wipe my mouth with my arm. "I hope that made our limited pool time worth it."

"Lucky for you, it did." She runs a hand through my hair. "I love the way you make me feel."

I stand between her legs, kissing her far more gently than our other kisses. "I'm glad."

Seconds later, it's Piper on her knees staring up at me. I last longer than she does before an orgasm rips through me, but my stamina is nothing to brag about. One look at her head between my legs, and I'm gone.

We shower together, where not surprisingly, we have a difficult time keeping our hands to ourselves. That leads to us simultaneously fingering each other until we both get off at the same time. We dry off and lie in the king-sized bed, exhausted from a full day of travel, lots of sunshine and of course, sexual exertion.

We wake from a nap about an hour later, and Piper suggests we go for a walk down Ocean Avenue and stop for a drink to people watch at one of the patio bars. The weather is perfect—82 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. The sun will set soon, but from what I understand, the temperature doesn't drop like it did in Dana Point, so we can enjoy a warm breeze throughout the night.

We turn onto the Miami Beach Boardwalk and watch scantily clad patrons frolic on the beach. There's a group of six women playing volleyball, three buff men throwing a frisbee, and at least 30 people laying out to enjoy the last moments of sunshine or splashing in the ocean.

"Do you remember the last time we watched the sunset together?" Piper asks.

"I do." I grin. "I think that was the _only_ time we've watched the sunset."

"True." She takes my hand and leads me down to the sand. "Think about how far we've come since then."

A small sound escapes my mouth.

"I know it's only been six months, but it feels like six years," she comments.

"I don't know about six years," I chuckle. "But it definitely feels longer than six months."

We walk on the hard sand where the waves glide up and down the beach.

Piper looks up at me. "Imagine us doing this almost every day."

"You mean if we move to San Diego?"

She nods. "I love everything about the ocean—the way it sounds, the way it smells, the way it feels against my skin even when the water is cold."

"It's nice."

Ever perceptive, Piper gives me a look and asks, "Are you having second thoughts about moving?"

"No second thoughts," I reply. "I'm just worried about getting a job."

"What's the likelihood of your company being able to place you in San Diego?"

"Slim," I respond. "In my three and a half years working for this company, I've only seen two opportunities in California. I don't know if it's because they aren't as familiar with the work we do or if the clinics are staffed so well that they don't need coverage when someone takes a leave of absence."

"You have money saved if you can't get a job right away, right?"

I nod. "Enough to last four or five months, but anything beyond that would be a stretch."

"UCSD has housing for married couples and domestic partners," she begins. "So if we live on campus, you won't have rent to pay," she says.

Although the thought of putting a ring on Piper has crossed my mind, I'd like to actually live together for a few months before making that kind of commitment. "We're neither of those things."

"I'm sure there's a way around it," she offers.

I don't share her confidence, but I don't want to dwell on our possible living situation right now. "Health insurance is something I worry about."

"Could you get temporary insurance?"

"COBRA?" I ask. "I have to check with my employer, but the monthly payment for that is something insane like $600. I guess if I don't have to pay rent, that's where my money could go."

We turn around and begin walking back towards the boardwalk, remaining silent for the next few minutes. I listen to the birds chirping and ocean waves crashing against the shore. It would be nice to experience this in San Diego with Piper every day.

"Do you feel like getting a drink somewhere?"

She nods, tugging me closer. I can tell she's still thinking about the move to California, and it's not sitting well with her.

"If you can't find a job before we move, maybe you should take another placement and stay with your company even if I'm already in San Diego."

I figured this conversation wasn't over. "It's only April. I'll do at least one more placement before late August when you have to be at school." I lift my shoulders. "We'll see what happens."

Piper smiles at me, but it's a weak, hesitant smile.

I lean over, kissing the side of her head. "Let's enjoy this vacation, babe. We can talk about this stuff later."

We have a drink at one of the fancy hotel patio bars and watch the people stroll by. Miami certainly is unique—there's everything from the fit, baby-strolling, jogging mom to the overweight, ice-cream eating 50-something man. For the most part, however, the people who walk by are either tourists or suntanned Miami locals who look like they're heading out for a night on the town.

The rest of our vacation goes similarly to the first day—we spend time at the pool, go for at least one walk a day, and have an early evening cocktail at one of the grand hotels or trendy bars. We eat as much authentic Cuban food as we can, and I discover my love of _Medianoche_, a type of sandwich that's typically served in nightclubs in Havana. Piper can't get enough of the fried plantains and _Lomo ahumado_. She promises to make a Cuban meal for me when we're back in New England.

The one afternoon when a thunderstorm blows through, we make slow and lazy love in our hotel room and order room service that night as the sky is illuminated with bolts of lightning. We also spend an afternoon absorbing the Miami art scene by taking an Art Deco tour, visiting the Bass Museum of Art, and checking out an art fair called _Scope_ near our hotel in South Beach. We go to a gay bar on our last night in town, and Piper is disappointed that we only discovered the vibrant club when it's almost time to return home.

We leave Miami early the following morning, and my heart sinks at the thought of being away from Piper again. I'm glad we're only two hours away from each other rather than four, but that means we have to resort to seeing each other only on weekends. If this trip has proved nothing else, it's clear that we're compatible in every way and will have no trouble living together.


	20. Chapter 20

Since we've been a couple, I've never wondered if Alex and I were compatible. What I told my parents remains true—we complement each other in every way. Being with her in Miami solidified my desire to spend every day with her, but if I'm being honest with myself, I'm worried about her job situation. I know she's anxious about finding employment in San Diego, and while I share her concern, I selfishly want her there with me no matter what. Pushing my self-interest aside, if she doesn't have a job by mid-summer, I'm going to once again suggest that she take one more temporary placement with her company even if it's not in San Diego. Besides, I have to get acclimated to graduate school expectations, which I'm sure are greater than expectations on the undergrad level.

We continue seeing each other every weekend throughout the rest of April and into May until my college graduation is upon us. I haven't given much thought to my family being here along with Alex, but I'm sure it'll be uncomfortable and awkward for everyone involved. It isn't until two weeks before graduation when my father calls.

"I've made hotel arrangements for us in Northampton," he says. "And dinner reservations for that night."

I don't want this to be contentious, but I have to say what's on my mind. "Reservations for how many?"

"The four of us," he responds. "Unfortunately, Danny can't make it."

I all but hold my breath as I say, "You're forgetting Alex; there will be five of us."

"She's not invited, Piper," he replies in a firm voice. "Your mother and I sacrificed a lot for you—you didn't even have to take out any student loans. The least you can do is have dinner with us without your girlfriend tagging along."

"I am so grateful to you for paying for my education." I close my eyes. "But Alex is a big part of my life, and I want to celebrate with her, too."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for that."

"That's not the point…" I let out a long sigh and shake my head, knowing I'm not going to convince him to change his mind over the phone. "I have to go. I'll see you at graduation."

I hang up feeling deflated. Should I have refused to go to dinner altogether? I need to talk to Alex, but she's still at work. I try concentrating on my final paper for my epistemology class, but it's no use. I put my laptop aside and opt for a run to clear my head.

Running has always been cathartic for me, and this time is no different. I find my rhythm after about eight minutes, and that's when I allow thoughts to pop into my head, and then leave with the next breath. It's almost like meditation for me—letting things go as I exhale. I don't try to solve problems when I run, but I always come back a bit more energized to tackle whatever issue I'm facing.

I take a quick shower, grab something to eat at the dining hall with Polly and Brit, and then walk to the library to finish my paper. On my walk, I call Alex and relay what my dad said about the graduation dinner.

"It's no big deal, babe," she says. "You can come to my hotel after dinner. We'll have our own little celebration." I picture her smirking with a cocked eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" I want Alex to join my family for dinner, but it would probably be uncomfortable for her. "I can refuse to go."

"Don't," she replies. "You need your parents to pay for graduate school. If you piss them off, they might pull the plug."

I lower my eyes. "I feel like I'm using them."

"I'm sorry you're in this position, Piper. Hopefully they'll be more accepting of our relationship in the future, but for now, you're going to have to play by their rules," Alex responds. "I know it sucks, but it's what's best for now."

I nod, knowing she's right, and then change the topic. "How was your day?"

She fills me in on her day at work and her lunch with co-workers. I don't feel a ton better about agreeing to dinner with my family, but at least I know Alex's position on the matter. If I detected even a hint of resentment, I would've called the whole thing off. Nevertheless, I _do_ feel like I'm using my parents to get them to support me financially. Maybe that's something I need to examine closer. Tomorrow, I'll research student loans, but for now, I have to finish the last three pages of my paper.

* * *

Graduation day is here before I know it, and as it turns out, my parents and brother are staying at the same hotel as Alex. I don't tell _them_ about the coincidence, but Alex finds it mildly amusing.

I stick my hands on my hips. "What if they're in the room next door?"

"Then we hope the walls are thick?" I'm glad _she_ finds this funny.

"Alex, I'm not having sex with you if my parents are in the room next to us!"

"Oh, come on!" She sits on the bed. "Don't you find even a little humor in this?"

"No." I shake my head. "I don't."

"You're no fun," she huffs. "Text Cal to find out what room they're in."

I pull out my phone and text my brother. It must suck for him to have to share a room with my parents, but the hotel has been sold out for months because of graduation festivities.

Alex and I have stayed at The Ellery Hotel every other week since she moved from Charlton. This time will be no different, but I don't want to run into my parents. They'll probably hang out in the hotel bar, where Alex and I typically have cocktails after dinner, but that's not going to happen tonight.

"Do you have plans with them later today?" she asks, hoisting her bag onto the luggage rack.

"No," I respond. "I'll meet them in the hotel restaurant for breakfast in the morning."

She smirks. "Little do they know you're staying three floors above the restaurant."

"And they never will find out." I feel my phone vibrate. "Cal responded—They're in 408. Wait, that's _this_ floor! What room are we in?" I search for the small cardkey envelope.

"416," she replies.

I crease my brows. "They're just on the other side of the elevator?!"

"At least they're not next door." She shrugs nonchalantly. "Relax, babe. When we leave the room, I'll exit first and call the elevator. You can come out a few seconds later. They're not going to know you're staying here."

"I don't know how you can be so calm."

"What's the worst that could happen if they find out?" she asks.

"They'll know I'm staying with you," I try.

"And?"

"And it'll be super awkward."

"So, the worst that could possibly happen is that you'll have an awkward moment with your parents?" Alex stands and takes my hands. "Isn't this whole graduation weekend going to be awkward with me here?"

I glance away. "Yes."

She places her right hand on my cheek. "It can't get much worse than it already is."

"I'm ready for the whole weekend to be over," I complain. "But then that means we're apart again _and_ that I have to move back home for two weeks."

"Time is going to fly by after graduation." She pulls me into her arms. "Before you know it, you'll be back at the treatment center down the road, working as the Lead Youth Residential Counselor. That's something to look forward to, right?"

I nod. "I don't know how I'm going to survive two weeks at home though."

Alex lips fall onto my forehead. "Somehow, I think you'll manage."

We sneak out of the hotel at around 7 o'clock that night to have dinner in the next town over. There's no way my parents will travel to Hatfield for dinner. I made up some excuse about eating with my Smith friends in the dining hall one last time, so my dad didn't pressure me to join them tonight. My guess is they'll eat around 6 or 6:30, go back to the hotel bar to have a drink, and then be in their room by nine o'clock. My plan is to stay out with Alex until after 10 p.m. to avoid them altogether.

* * *

On the day of Piper's graduation, she has an early breakfast with her family, and then heads to campus for the ceremony. As I exit our room just after noon, the thing that I didn't think would happen does: I run smack dab into her parents.

Cal is the first to greet me. "Alex? Hey!"

I give him a perfunctory wave. "Hey."

Piper's parents glare at me for a moment before looking away.

Cal shoves his hands into his pockets. "Going to the graduation ceremony?"

"Yeah." I smile at them even though their eyes are anywhere but on me. "Hi, Bill and Carol."

They don't even have the decency to wave much less say hello.

"I would ask if you wanted a ride, but…" He glances at his parents and shrugs.

"It's ok. I have an errand to run beforehand. Maybe I'll see you later."

"Cool."

I decide to take the stairs to the first floor rather than ride in the elevator with them. It's not that I'm letting them have the upper hand, but I'd rather not experience the awkwardness that's sure to follow as the elevator slowly makes its way down. The last time I rode in one with Bill Chapman was one of the worst days of my life.

The ceremony is two hours long, and other than the prolific graduation speaker, it's boring as fuck. I stand and cheer when they call Piper's name, and then I make my way to the side of the stage with the throngs of people who are eager to hug their graduate.

Piper finally comes out 10 minutes later, and I hand her a bouquet of flowers. "Congratulations, babe!"

"Thank you!" She hugs me with a huge smile. "Let's get a picture."

She hands her phone to the man next to me, and he snaps our photograph.

"Send it to me," I say.

"I will." She puts her phone away. "Have you seen my family?"

"Yeah." I adjust my glasses. "I ran into them in the hallway of the hotel."

"You did?" Her eyes pop open. "I told you!"

I lift my shoulders. "You weren't with me, so it wasn't a big deal."

"I don't know how I'm going to sneak into your room tonight after dinner with them," she responds. "Maybe I should just spend the night in my house."

"You could do that."

A few of her friends call her over for pictures.

"I should go," she says, kissing me on the cheek. "Thank you for coming, Al."

"Yeah." I watch her walk away.

This day, hell this _weekend_, should be about Piper, but I can't shake the feeling that I don't belong.

That evening, Piper texts me from the bathroom at dinner, saying that the food is decent, but the company is terrible. Her only saving grace is that Cal is there to make the situation lighter. She ends up taking the stairs to my room late that night so she doesn't run into her parents. Although it's always hard saying goodbye, I'll be thankful this is the last time we'll have to dodge her parents like teenagers. I'm way too old for this.

* * *

Summer goes by in a flash just as expected, and Piper purchases a one-way ticket to San Diego. I can't meet her down there immediately due to my commitment at a clinic in Little Rock. It's probably better this way so she can get the lay of the land on her own. Classes at UCSD begin the Monday before I arrive, but her on-campus job in the writing center starts next week as freshmen orientation gets underway.

I'm not thrilled that I'm staying with her in the dorm without consent from the administration, but I don't want to sign even a six-month lease without having a job here. Piper tried to arrange married couple/domestic partner housing, but without proof that we're legally a couple, that didn't fly. She assured me that graduate school housing is like living off campus and that no one will know I'm staying there permanently, but it still makes me uncomfortable. (I'm also not fond of the word _permanently_ when it refers to living in a fucking dorm room.)

I still don't have a job in San Diego, and the logistics coordinator at my company isn't sure something will pop up in the near future. I've already told them about my plan to move there regardless of a placement, and they're prepared to give me up to six weeks of the vacation days I've earned over the years. Since I was old enough to legally do so, there's never been a time in my life when I didn't work. The thought of sitting on my ass all day is unappealing, so I've considered taking a menial job not only to make money, but also to stay busy until something in my field comes up.

After my stint in Little Rock is up the first week of September, I pack my belongings and get ready for my move across the country. I zip the first of two suitcases when my phone rings.

"One more day," she says through what I'm sure is a wide smile.

"Hey." I hear waves crashing.

"Are you finished packing?"

"Just about," I respond. "Are you at the beach?"

"Yeah," she answers. "I'm checking out all the local beaches that I can bike or walk to. This one is about a mile and a half away from campus."

"Not bad."

"It reminds me of the beach in Dana Point."

I smile. "That was a good beach."

"It was," she replies. "I'm going to meet you at the airport tomorrow."

I hoist my suitcase onto the floor. "You don't have to do that."

"I want to," she says. "It'll be our first day together for what I hope will be a long time."

Piper and I haven't spoken about _forever_, but I sure as hell think about forever with her.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 3:30," she says. "Can't wait!"

"See you then."

There's no question I want to live with Piper and not have to worry about driving away after a few days; I only hope a job opens soon so I feel more at ease.

* * *

I'm so excited about Alex's arrival that I hardly slept last night. I attend my one class today and work a few hours in the writing center, which helps take my mind off the clock, but as soon as my shift is over, all thoughts turn to Alex. I tidy up what will soon be _our_ room before making my way to the airport an hour prior to her scheduled landing time.

I know Alex is anxious about not having a job, but I hope she's confident in her decision to move to San Diego. The first couple of weeks might feel like vacation, but if she doesn't have any leads after that, she's going to get restless. The last thing I want is for her to take another placement that sends her hundreds if not thousands of miles away again. I'm ready to build a life with her, starting now.

I twist my fingers together and anxiously wait for her to enter the baggage claim area just before four o'clock. When I see her coming down the escalator my heart flips in my chest.

She jogs down the last four or five steps, then throws her arms around me, letting a duffle bag fall to the floor. "Hey, babe."

"I can't believe you're really here," I whisper against her neck.

She pulls back, kisses me on the lips, and then squeezes my hands. "I'm here."

We collect her two suitcases in baggage claim, and then take an Uber to campus. I've FaceTimed with Alex pretty much every day, so she has a general sense of the dorm room, but I hold my breath as she steps inside.

"Not terrible, right?" I ask.

She sets a bag down. "No."

Although the furniture is cheap, cookie-cutter dorm stuff, I've tried to brighten up the place with colorful throw pillows on the sofa, a few pictures hanging on the walls, and a multi-colored comforter on our bed. I even bought a bright blue runner to cover the old, worn coffee table.

"I like the pops of color," she says.

"It's a start," I reply. "I'm hoping you can add a few things to brighten it up." I walk over to the window and point. "If you look in the distance, you can see the beach."

"The very definition of a peek-a-boo view." She glances outside, then turns back to me with a long sigh. "I can't believe I'm living in a college dormitory—illegally, I might add."

"You've always said you missed out on that part of the college experience." I shrug. "And no one will know you're staying here. It's not the same as underclassmen housing that has a resident assistant, checking the rooms every night."

"Still, we're breaking the rules."

I know when Alex was younger, she broke the rules all the time. Hell, she went to prison for not only breaking rules, but for breaking the law. It can't bother her _that_ much that we're shacking up without permission. She's uneasy and edgy—that much is certain.

"Let's focus on the fact that you and I are in the same room." I kiss the corner of her mouth. "And neither of us has to leave in two or three days."

That seems to satisfy her. She places her hand on the back of my head and deepens the kiss.

I've missed everything about Alex, but the mind-blowing sex is in the top three things I missed most. We fall asleep shortly after a round of sex, and it isn't until nearly eight o'clock when we wake up and do something productive. We spend the next hour, chatting about my classes and my job while I help her unpack.

* * *

As suspected, the first two weeks of our time together in San Diego are amazing. She spends much of her days researching job opportunities, but she doesn't complain about not finding any leads. She explores the city while I'm in class and almost always cooks dinner for the two of us. Although the meals are pretty standard fare with no more than five ingredients, I'm grateful for a home cooked meal that I get to share with her.

My four grad school classes are interesting, and I love being able to talk to Alex about the things I learn. Oftentimes she recalls a college lecture on a particular subject and tells me stories about how she applied what she learned in her clinical life.

It isn't until week three when Alex's agitation becomes increasingly conspicuous. One day, I get home a little after 4 p.m., and she's drinking. Alex is not a drinker. She enjoys a glass of wine with dinner or a couple of beers in the evening, but I've never seen her drunk. Not that she's _drunk_ when I arrive at our room, but she's sipping tequila with rock music blaring and the window wide open.

"Hi, Al." I walk over to the speaker to lower the volume. "Having a party by yourself?"

"Hey." She rests her foot on the coffee table. "I didn't expect you home for another hour."

"I don't work at the writing lab on Wednesday afternoons." I hook my bag over the back of a stool. "You know that."

"Oh." She sips tequila. "I forgot what day of the week it was."

I sit in the armchair across from her and try to keep judgement out of my tone. "How many of those have you had?"

"No idea." She gets to her feet and moves to the kitchen. "Do we have any limes? I don't know how I'm drinking tequila without a lime. It's a sacrilege."

I pick up the bottle and tilt it to the side. As I recall, we used maybe a cup of this Espolòn to make margaritas last weekend. Judging by the contents remaining in the bottle, she's had at least two glasses. There's no mixer in sight, so I presume she's drinking it straight.

She opens the refrigerator, then a cabinet in search of limes that we don't have. "I guess a lemon will have to do."

I watch her slice the yellow flesh. "Bad day?"

"Want one?" she asks, avoiding my question. "I'll bring a glass." She returns to her spot on the sofa with a glass for me and a plate of lemon wedges. "Citrus is citrus, right?"

I decide to try a different tactic. "Are we celebrating something?"

"Sure. Why not?" Alex pours tequila in my glass and tops off her own glass. "Let's celebrate three weeks of living together."

"I'll drink to that." I clink my glass against hers, but this is _not_ a celebration; I know her better than that.

She takes a healthy swig and winces as it goes down. "Whoo!" With the back of her hand, she wipes a drop that trickles down her chin. "How was your day?"

"It was good." I'll play along for now. "Especially my cognitive neuroscience class. The lecture was on perception and memory."

"Mmm."

"I learned that while our sensory receptors are constantly collecting information from the environment, it's ultimately how we _interpret_ that information that affects how we interact with the world," I offer.

She balances the glass on her knee. "What's your perception of me?"

I blink a couple of times before responding, "Generally speaking or at this moment?"

She shrugs. "Right now."

"That you're struggling with something you don't want to share," I begin. "I'm guessing you want to get drunk so we don't have to discuss whatever it is tonight."

She takes a sip and blanches again. "You don't need a grad school course on perception, babe."

I set my glass on the coffee table without having taken a drink. "You're upset that you don't have a job."

Alex lifts one of her fingers off the glass and points at me. "You're perceptive as fuck."

I ache for her. "I don't know how to help you, Al."

"You can't." She lifts her shoulders. "This is on me."

"What can I do to make things better?"

She takes yet another swig before glancing my way. "Let me take a job with my company even if it's in another state."

"You just got here," I try. "We agreed to give it six weeks before you'd resort to moving again."

"That's not what _I _agreed to." She points a thumb to her chest. "I told you I have six weeks of vacation, and if that ran out, I'd have to either quit my job or get another one."

I shake my head. "It's only been three!"

"I can't live like this!" She blurts out. "I'm bored out of my fucking mind! I don't even know what day it is—they all fucking blend together!"

I know this isn't going to be met with agreement, but I give it a shot anyway. "Then get a job! I told you they're hiring non-UCSD students in the bookstore."

"I'm a licensed therapist!" she replies loudly. "I'm not going to take a minimum wage job just so I can live with my girlfriend! Maybe if I were your age that would be fine, but I'm in my mid fucking 30s!"

That stings. I look away and try not to blink as I'm worried a tear might drip down my cheek.

Alex lets out a long breath. "I love you, Piper, but I can't do this much longer."

"This was always the plan." My eyes finally land on hers. "You'd move wherever I ended up so we could be together for the first time in our lives. How could you go back on that?"

"I don't _want_ to go back on it!" She stands. "I want to be with you. I want to _live_ with you, but not at the expense of my…my quality of life."

I raise my brows. "So, a minimum wage job is beneath you?"

"It's not…" she trails off with a firm head shake, then tries again. "Tell you what…" she picks up her glass and takes another swig. "I'll apply for that job at the bookstore and maybe even the one at the Starbucks down the street. Would that make you happy?"

"Would it make _you_ happy?"

"No!" She spins around. "None of this makes me happy!" She pauses before adding, "One of us is bound to be the selfish one. There's no way around it."

Alex is right—if she stays in San Diego and gets an hourly job, I'm the selfish one for 'making' her stay. If she leaves to take a therapist job in another part of the country, she's the selfish one for not sticking it out. It's a lose/lose situation.

"Can you just wait it out another couple of weeks?" I ask.

"Then what?" she asks. "I'll have used five of my six weeks of vacation. How does that solve anything?"

"Maybe a therapist job will open up in the county or your company will find a placement for you here," I try. "We won't know if you just leave."

"Fine." She plops onto the sofa. "I'll wait."

Alex sounds defeated, and it's killing me. I don't want to feel like I'm holding her hostage, but isn't this what we agreed upon over the last year? Surely, I didn't misunderstand our plan.

"You wanna keep drinking?" I ask tentatively.

"Not really." She stares at her now empty glass. "I knew it wouldn't help, but…"

I tilt my head. "But what?"

She shrugs. "It sounded good an hour ago."

I sit next to her on the couch. "I've never seen you drunk."

She lets out a small laugh. "You're not missing anything."

I take her hand, caressing the back of it with my thumb. "We're going to get past this, Al."

"I hope you're right." She pulls my hand onto her lap, but her smile is faint and hopeless.

Now I'm really concerned.

* * *

Author's Note: I covered a lot of ground in this chapter, so thank you for bearing with me. Many of you guessed it: there had to be angst. It's been creeping into the story here and there, but this chapter marked a point where the rubber met the road with Alex's move to San Diego. More to come soon...


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: I hear and respect each of you who didn't like Piper in the last chapter. Fair warning: you're not going to love her in the first part of this chapter either. She's young, selfish, and doesn't always think before she acts. However, as on the show and in this story, she finds a way to redeem herself. (Shout out to my beta, IrishViking20, who turned this chapter around quickly.) Oh, and this is not the final chapter-at least two more plus an Epilogue. Please enjoy.

* * *

The next day I begrudgingly apply for a job at the coffee shop down the street as well as the one in the UCSD bookstore. Two days later, I have an interview at both places and get offered a part-time job at both. Since the pay at the bookstore is a smidge higher and the hours are 8:30 to 1:30, I choose that one. Piper is elated, but I don't share her exuberance, at least not inwardly. It's hard to fathom this is what I've resorted to. I feel like a struggling 18-years-old again, working 20 hours per week to earn a few bucks. Despite being a realist, I never thought it would come to this. Surely, I thought, a therapist job would pop up if not in San Diego proper, then somewhere in Southern California that would allow us to continue living together.

Speaking of living together, as hard as I've tried, I don't like living in a dorm room, especially because I'm not supposed to be here. I keep asking myself why I'm having trouble breaking the rules when I did that for a fucking living for five years of my life. I think it's because I don't belong—I'm old enough to be these kids' professor and I'm not a student myself. If I stay in San Diego, we're going to have to discuss moving off campus.

While I spend my days working the cash register and listening to my undergrad co-workers complain about the lack of hot boys on campus or how they don't have enough time to sunbathe, Piper is living her best life. She's soaking up knowledge about psychology and mental health and can't wait to share what she's learned with me every day. I'm happy for her; I really am, but I'm not happy about my day-to-day, unfulfilling life.

Another two weeks go by and I'm forced to officially take a leave of absence from my company, which means I'm not getting paid, but I'm still technically employed. The closest placement my company has for me is in Flagstaff, which is a seven-hour drive from San Diego. I hate feeling like this—desperate, bored and annoyed. I made the mistake of taking my frustrations out on Piper the night I decided to drink straight tequila, and it was a mistake. It's not her fault I can't find a job in my field. I knew this would be the sticky point, but I didn't think it would be this bad.

One day while Piper is in class, I call my old friend.

"You move to California and forget about us low-lifes in Connecticut?" Nicky answers.

She has always been able to make me smile.

"How's it going, Vause?"

"I wish I could say it was awesome," I start. "But it's not."

"You're living in one of the most beautiful areas of the country with your hot girlfriend, I might add, and complaining?" she asks rhetorically.

"I'm not complaining about San Diego or how things are going with Piper," I reply. "I just miss working in my profession."

"No luck with a placement down there?"

"No," I sigh. "I got a part-time job in the campus bookstore. That's what I've resorted to."

"Seriously?"

"Technically I'm still employed by my company on a leave of absence," I respond. "But I'm not on the payroll."

"You need money?"

"It's not that." I scratch my head. "Piper's busy with grad school, and I'm working with 19-year-old kids behind a cash register for half the day. The other half, I'm bored out of my fucking head."

"Do you feel like you have to stay in San Diego?"

I glance out the window at the parking lot below. "Kind of."

"Have you and blondie talked about that?"

"We talk about it all the time." I run my fingers through my hair. "Am I being selfish for thinking about taking a placement out of state?"

"I don't know if I'd call you selfish." I picture her shrugging. "But you're doing everything you can to stay with the woman you love."

That's what I've been grappling with. _Selfish_ is never a word I would've used to describe myself, and if I leave even temporarily, that's what I'd be. Piper is right—my moving wherever she went to grad school was always the plan; trouble is, we didn't figure out anything beyond that part.

"I've worked in fast food restaurants, bagged groceries, dog walked, and even did a stint in the janitorial department at a school," I begin. "Earning minimum wage isn't the problem. I've spent a lot of fucking money and time getting to a point in my life where I have a career that I love. I shouldn't have to work at a dead-end, low-paying job just because I want to live with my girlfriend."

"You shouldn't _have to_, Vause, but that's what you chose," Nicky responds. "If your career is important, maybe you can ask your company to give you a short-term placement, and then something might open up in San Diego that you could jump on."

"Yeah." I sit on the sofa and glance at the clock. Piper should be home any minute. "I'm sorry this was all about me. I'll call tomorrow to hear more about your life."

"Nothing to tell," she replies. "I'm single yet again, but I do have a date with an Egyptian woman this weekend that sounds promising."

"Egyptian, huh?" I smile. "Good luck."

I hang up and stare at the wall, not feeling any closer to making a decision than I was before talking with Nicky.

Ten minutes later Piper breezes in. "Hi!"

"Hey." I twist my neck to look at her. "How was your day?"

"Good." She sets her bag on the stool. "I helped this boy with an English paper in the writing lab today, and he couldn't even conjugate verbs."

"How'd he get into college?"

"Great question." She raises her shoulders. "What did you do today?"

"Worked at the bookstore, finished the latest Malcolm Gladwell book, went for a walk, and then stopped at the grocery store to get stuff for dinner. Oh, and I just got off the phone with Nicky."

She kisses me before sitting down. "How's she doing?"

"We didn't talk much about her," I begin. "I thought maybe she'd have some advice."

She creases her forehead. "Advice about what?"

"There are zero clinical jobs open in San Diego," I reply. "I need to make a decision by Friday if I'm going to take the Flagstaff placement."

"Why so soon?"

"Soon?" I laugh incredulously. "They've held off on placing another therapist there for a week so I could have first dibs. I can't make them wait any longer."

"Do you want it?"

I get to my feet. "I don't want to leave you but working in an alcohol abuse clinic sounds awesome right about now."

She shrugs. "Then do it."

"Don't say that just to avoid an argument." I turn to face her. "You wouldn't be upset if I took the job in Arizona?"

"Yes, I'd be upset, but I'm tired of fighting about this." Piper folds her arms. "It's clear that you want to go back to working as a therapist, and there's nothing available here. Go. Do another temporary thing, and we'll see where that leaves us."

I side-eye her. "_We'll__ see where that leaves __us_?"

"I'm tired of living hundreds of miles away from each other." She lifts her shoulders. "I thought this was _finally_ it for us—we'd make a life together in San Diego."

I challenge her. "Are you saying that if I take this job in Flagstaff, we're not going to end up together?"

"I don't know."

I stick my hands on my hips. "Are you being your overly dramatic self or are you being serious?"

"I'm not overly dramatic," she defends.

I lower my head so she can't see me roll my eyes.

"I don't want to go back to being in a long-distance relationship," she says. "I'm not saying I want to date other people or anything—that's the furthest thing from my mind. I love you, Alex, but I'm done with the living apart thing."

I don't feel like she's issuing an ultimatum, but I never thought she'd stand her ground so firmly.

"If you stay here, you're going to end up resenting me," she continues. "One of us is going to get the raw end of the deal; it might as well be me."

"You don't think_ I'm_ getting the raw end of the deal?"

"How would you be getting it?" she asks.

"You think I _want_ to leave you?" I begin in a heated tone. "I have to relocate to stay relevant in my job and to earn a decent paycheck! I'm being practical."

"You could stay and try to get more hours at the bookstore until something opens up in a hospital or a clinic here," Piper states.

I spread my arms open wide. "Nothing has opened here since I began looking in fucking _March_!"

"I'm just saying if you leave, it puts us in an awkward position."

I lift my eyebrows. "Because you'd break up with me?"

"I wouldn't break up with you…" She stares at the ground. "Maybe we just need some time to focus on our careers."

I tighten my jaw, disbelieving where this conversation has landed us. "Maybe."

"I don't want you to be miserable if you stay here," she says in a softer tone.

"Nothing makes me happier than being with you." I walk up to her, placing my hands on her arms. "But I miss my job. I _need_ to work, Piper. I miss helping people. I miss the independence and routine of going to a clinic every day. I miss feeling like a productive member of society."

She wraps her fingers around my wrists. "I love coming home to you every night and talking to you in person rather than on the phone."

"I love that, too." I kiss her forehead. "It just sucks right now."

She nods.

"I won't stop looking for jobs here," I say. "And as soon as one pops up, I'll apply for it."

"I know."

"I hate the thought of leaving you but taking this job in Flagstaff is the responsible and practical thing to do."

She wraps her arms around me and sighs.

We make love that night without saying a word, and I know it'll be the last time for a while I'll get to hold Piper like this. It makes me sad enough to cry, but as soon as that feeling of grief washes over me, I hurry to the bathroom so she doesn't see me.

* * *

The clinic in Flagstaff was forced to operate for one week without a temporary therapist, so they're grateful when I arrive for a six-week stint. Leaving Piper has never been easy, but this was probably the hardest it has ever been. I know she loves me, and my move doesn't change that, but I don't know what my relocation is going to do to us. I have no intention of dating anyone else, and while I know Piper feels the same, she's upset enough to call this 'a break'. I go through phases of thinking she's being petulant to phases of thinking she _should_ stand her ground—after all, I've said for the better part of a year that I wanted to be wherever she was. My job situation has always been the hang up, and neither of us could've predicted what it would do to our relationship. No matter how you slice it, we both would've 'lost' if I stayed in San Diego—I would've resented Piper for guilting me into staying and she would've felt like shit because of it. No one wins here.

The only good to have come out of my move is that I realize how much I've missed being a therapist. I get to help people and solve problems every day. My work is stimulating and complicated and demanding, and I love it. What I don't love is the nagging feeling that I put my career over my love of Piper. I go home every night feeling guilty and sad.

Piper and I agreed that she could reach out when she wanted, but I wasn't going to be the first to do so unless it was an emergency. She's the one who suggested we take a break, and while I hate the idea, I'm not going to force her to stay with me out of some misplaced obligation. We don't talk for six days, and each day that passes makes me miss her more. On the seventh day, my phone chimes, indicating a FaceTime call.

It's her.

"Hi," I say, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Her face is all blotchy and it looks like she's been crying.

I immediately get to my feet, wishing I could teleport to San Diego to be with her. "What's wrong?"

"I miss you so much." She breaks into tears. "I hate this, Alex."

My heart sinks as I watch her cry. "I miss you, too, babe."

She wipes her cheeks with her shirtsleeve. "This is the last thing I wanted."

I give her a small smile. "It's ok to be sad."

Piper sniffs. "I've been miserable this last week. I've wanted to call you like 20 times a day."

"Why didn't you?"

The tears haven't stopped falling. "Because we're supposed to be on a break."

"To be honest, I don't even know what that means," again, I try for a slight bit of levity. "Are we re-enacting Ross and Rachel's storyline from _Friends_?"

That garners me a tiny laugh, but then she turns serious again. "It means we're supposed to focus on our careers. I wanted to dive into schoolwork and not worry about coming home too late after you've been bored out of your mind all day." She sniffs again.

I wrinkle my brows. "Were you worried about not studying enough when I lived there?"

She nods as a fresh set of tears rolls down her cheek.

"You're in San Diego to get a master's degree, Piper," I reply. "Nothing should get in the way of that, including me."

"All I wanted to do was spend time with you," she admits. "I studied enough to get by."

"Are you studying more now that I'm gone?"

She grabs a Kleenex. "Yeah, but it comes at the cost of not seeing you every day."

"It sucks," I begin. "But you're doing what you need to do not only to get a good grade, but also to learn what it takes to be a professional therapist. I won't be a distraction that takes you away from your end goal."

She blows her nose. "I just never thought it would come to this—you moving to another state after only having lived with me for less than two months."

"We're doing what we have to do for the time being," I try. "I wish we could have it both ways, but we can't."

Although she's still crying, the tears have slowed to a trickle.

"I could fly down there next weekend if you want."

She nods, dotting her eyes with the tissue. "I'd like that."

"I'll look at plane tickets," I offer. "Tell me what you've learned this week."

I successfully get us off the topic of how badly we miss each other and am rewarded with Piper eventually cheering up as she tells me about her classes.

I go to sleep that night with a partially heavy heart for not being able to be with Piper right now, but there's a part of me that's joyful, knowing that our temporary separation is actually _good_ for both of us and our careers.

* * *

Over the next six weeks, Piper and I see each other three times—I fly to San Diego twice and she comes to Flagstaff for a long weekend. Our 'break' lasted a week, and we're once again fully committed to making this work even if that means I take job placements far away.

After Flagstaff, I get a three-month placement in Bakersfield, which is only a four-hour drive or six hour train ride from San Diego. That allows us to see each other pretty much every weekend. Although I was hoping to spend a few days with Nicky in Darien for Christmas, Piper is still not talking to her parents and would prefer not to return home. It's a sore subject, so I don't mention it often. We make the most of the holidays in San Diego, though while Piper is on a month-long winter break, I still have to work, so she spends a week with me in Bakersfield.

We made a pact that we'd only talk about clinical jobs for me in San Diego once a week. I don't want to dwell on the fact that psychologist jobs don't seem to exist along the California coast, so it's best if we focus on the present. Piper still loves her classes and hopes that her second semester courses are equally appealing.

As my time in Bakersfield comes to an end in early January, Piper and I find ourselves in a discussion that I never thought would surface.

She dips a tea bag in and out of her mug. "What if San Diego isn't where we're meant to be?"

"What do you mean?"

"There apparently aren't any job openings for therapists, and I can get my graduate degree almost anywhere."

I crease my brows. "What are you saying?"

She takes a sip. "A while ago, you said you were ready to settle down instead of moving all over the country. Is that still true?"

"Yes." I nod, hand still wrapped around my glass that I meant to bring to my mouth a minute ago.

"What if you started looking for a permanent job somewhere else?"

"Seriously?"

It's her turn to nod. "I got an e-mail from U Mass, Amherst a few days ago about openings for transfer students, and it got me thinking." She pauses. "I like living in warm weather and having access to the beach, but it's meaningless if you're not there with me."

I'm _shocked_ at Piper's admission; I never thought she'd get to this place.

I finally remove my hand from the cold glass and place it on the table. "You'd transfer?"

"My heart isn't set on U Mass," she replies. "But I poked around on some other schools' transfer websites, and applications are due in like two weeks for the next academic year." She reaches for my hand. "I want to be with you, Alex. If that means moving to the coldest, most remote place on earth, I'll do it if it means seeing you every day."

I bring her hand to my lips, kissing the back of it. "That means a lot."

She squeezes my hand, then gets to her feet. "Where would you want to live?"

We move to the living room, leaving our dirty breakfast plates on the table.

"I think you know my answer." I sit on the sofa.

"Let me guess." She joins me. "Darien?"

"I never thought I'd miss that fucking suburb so much."

She laces her hand through my hair. "And Nicky?"

"Yeah her, too." I've always missed Nicky—Piper knows that'll never change unless I'm back in Connecticut.

"U Conn has a campus in Stamford," she notes. "They have a master's program in psychology."

I grin. "Did you look that up, or do you know it from memory?"

She leans forward and places a light kiss on my cheek. "I might've done a little research."

"Would you want to move back home?"

"I don't like how strained things are between me and my parents right now." Piper bends her elbow and props it on the back of the sofa, resting her head in her hand. "But I don't think it'll get any better if I live across the country."

I take her other hand in my lap, allowing her to continue.

"Maybe they need to see us together more often, and then they'll come around to accepting you in my life," she muses.

"Maybe," I offer without further explanation. I have no idea if Bill and Carol will ever accept our relationship nor do I know if living closer will help or harm us, but I sure as hell am not making a decision about where to live based on their judgement.

"There's still the issue of you getting a permanent job."

I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. "I've had an open invitation to work at the Peterman Clinic since the day I left."

"The place where you and I met?"

"Yeah," I chuckle. "That's kind of an odd way of explaining how we met."

She smiles. "It's the truth."

I return the smile, kissing her on the mouth even though my teeth are exposed. "It is."

"Do you want to reach out to them to see if the offer still stands albeit four and a half years later?"

"I could do that." I kiss her again, and she angles her head, placing a hand on my shoulder.

This is where the conversation ends as we both seem to crave a physical connection. Although I'd prefer to move to the bed, Piper's impatience convinces me that fucking on the sofa is what's in store for us right now. As she gets on her knees and tugs at my jeans; I think the bed can wait.

* * *

As expected, Dr. Peterman is happy to offer me a full-time psychologist position at his clinic. He mentioned that both he and Dr. Eckstein, my former supervisor, are getting close to retirement and hoping to cut back their hours, so my timing couldn't be better. I relay this information to Piper on one of our nightly calls, and she seems as happy as I am with the news.

Since the beginning of our relationship, I've put Piper first. I never thought I'd find myself in a position to choose between her and my career, but that's squarely where I landed in the fall. Taking that position in Flagstaff was a risk that didn't initially sit well with me. I lived in agony for the week we were on a break—it was the first time Piper chose something over me, and that hit hard.

When we first kissed in Dana Point, I urged her to consider dating other people, but she steadfastly refused. I wanted to ensure she would enter this relationship having experienced everything a 20-something year old _should_ experience. I couldn't live with myself if I'd held her back. She chose me—_only_ me.

When we were faced with the dilemma of me staying or leaving San Diego, Piper could've quit school to be with me. I never expected or wanted that, but she _did_ have a choice. Or, she could've encouraged me to continue working with my company while she was still at UCSD. When I told her I was going to take the Flagstaff job, she could've been supportive; instead she decided we should go on a break. In essence, she chose her schooling over me just as I chose my career over her.

I didn't know if we'd get past that point in our lives, but somehow we've managed. Now, I'm convinced that moving to Arizona was the right thing for me at the time, and Piper has come to realize the same. It allowed me to continue working in a job I love, and it allowed her to dig deeper into her studies. I'm sure there will be other hurdles to jump over as life goes on, but we crossed one pretty major one already. If we end up moving back to Darien, at least we can face the hurdles together.


	22. Chapter 22

February rolls around and Piper reminds me that it's been a year since we met with her parents. Back then, her mom told her that if we were still together in a year, she might come around to accepting our relationship. I wasn't holding my breath for that to happen, but apparently Piper was. She has three days off for mid-winter break, and I have a week before my next stint in Henderson, Nevada, so we decide to meet up in Darien so she can tour U Conn in Stamford and meet with a couple of professors in the psychology department.

We chose to take connecting flights to Dallas, and then fly home together from there.

"Do your parents know I'm coming?"

"Of course they do," she says around a sip of ginger ale. "I didn't ask if we could stay with them though. I assumed we'd stay at Nicky's." Her expression shifts and she grabs my arm. "Should I not have assumed that?"

"No," I chuckle. "I mean, yeah, we'll stay at Nicky's. I checked in with her a couple weeks ago."

"Good."

I grin. "Do you really think I'd be comfortable staying in your childhood bedroom with your parents next door?"

"No."

I pinch her thigh under the seat tray. "Now that I think of it, the childhood bedroom thing might be a turn on…"

She slaps me, knowing full well I'm joking.

"Would you be interested in having dinner with them one night?" Piper asks.

"Did they agree to that?"

"They were going to discuss it." She pops a pretzel into her mouth, and then changes the subject. "Do you want to tour U Conn with me?"

"Not really," I admit. "It's your decision if you want to go there. Isn't there another college in Stamford that you could check out?"

She nods. "Sacred Heart University, but they don't offer a master's in psych."

We spend the rest of the flight talking about Piper's college options and my timeline for joining the team at the Peterman Group.

"How soon would they want you to start?" She trades me her second bag of pretzels for my chocolate bar.

"As early as April 1, but I'll still be in Nevada," I explain, opening the little bag. "When will you hear if you've been admitted to U Conn?"

"First week of April," she says. "Would you want to move back to Darien before I do?"

"I could take another short-term job with my company." I eat the corner of a pretzel. "But I'm kind of done with the whole moving thing."

She breaks off a piece of the chocolate bar. "Then I think you should move back home when you're done at the clinic in Henderson."

"I could live with Nicky until you're done with school," I muse. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Are you kidding?" Piper smiles. "She'd love it."

"She'd probably love it if we both moved in," I say.

"What if…?" She blinks a few times. "What if we did that—moved in with Nicky for like a month or two, nothing long term? That would give us a chance to find the perfect apartment or even buy a house."

"You want to buy a house together?" I've never given any thought to buying a home mostly because I've had this traveling job for nearly five years.

"I love the thought of owning a home together, but I couldn't afford to pay for part of the mortgage, so maybe that's not a good plan for now."

"Maybe not for now," I say. "But it's something we should consider in the future."

She leans over and kisses my temple. "Speaking of the future…"

I eye her. "Yes?"

"We've never discussed if we want children." She takes a sip of ginger ale, and I wonder if she's trying to hide the blush on her cheeks.

"No, we haven't," I respond.

"Have you thought about it?"

Truth be told, I _have_ thought about having kids with Piper, but I've shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind. There's no way we'd start a family while she's still in school, so I figured why bother even discussing it until she's done with her master's degree?

"Yeah, I mean, it's not something I dwell on, but…" I trail off.

She pours the rest of the can of ginger ale into her cup. "But what?"

I lift my shoulders. "But I've thought about it."

"And?"

I let out an awkward laugh. "Why do I have to be the first one to answer all these questions?"

"I'll go first if you want," she replies with a quick shrug. "I've thought a lot about having a family with you—one or two kids, maybe a dog."

"No dogs."

She smiles. "Fine. No dogs."

I link our fingers together. "I want that, too…and maybe a cat."

"A cat and two kids?" she laughs.

I nod. "Yeah, but the cat comes first. We have to see if we can take care of an animal before we bring little human beings into the world."

She looks exuberant. "Are we really discussing this?"

"We are." I grin. "But we're putting the cart before the horse."

She wrinkles her brows.

"Wouldn't you want to get married first?" I ask.

"Oh. Yes, definitely."

I lean over to kiss her. "Is that a given?"

"Pretty much." She kisses me, and the man next to us clears his throat. "But you have to ask."

"I will, when the time is right." I kiss her again, ignoring the discomfort of Mr. Spreadsheet in the window seat.

* * *

We arrive at Nicky's house close to midnight, so rather than waking her, we decide to go to sleep and catch up with her in the morning.

The next day, we listen to Nicky's latest dating escapades over a breakfast of sunny side up eggs, bacon and toast. Being with Nicky has always been easy and fun. I miss her and need to be better about staying in touch even when it feels like I'm too busy to breathe. If Piper and I can make it happen, Nicky will be a part of my daily life sooner rather than later, but it's best to keep this news to ourselves right now in case somehow it doesn't all come together.

Piper gets a text from her parents around 11 a.m. asking if _we_ want to join them for dinner the following night.

I pull the phone closer to read the text. "She actually wrote 'we'?"

She nods.

"You don't seem as surprised as I am."

"I'm a little surprised," she replies. "But they know how serious I was about our relationship a year ago, and now that we're still together, they have to understand this is real."

"From what little I know of them, I didn't think they'd give an inch." I pull a sweater over my head. "Maybe your mom, but not your dad."

"It might be a disastrous dinner, but I'm willing to give them another chance." She puts on her boots. "Will you go with me?"

I grab my jacket and open the bedroom door. "Yeah."

I'm not sure what to expect from Bill and Carol Chapman, but I love Piper and hope they give us a chance if for nothing else than to save the relationship with their daughter. I couldn't care less if they like me or not—I'm not the one seeking their approval.

* * *

Alex and I take the train into Manhattan the day after we arrive and enjoy the beautiful though chilly day in and around Central Park. We have dinner at Marea, and then get last minute tickets to see _Kinky Boots_ at the Al Hirschfeld Theater. It's rare that we have days like this. We've lived apart for so long that usually we end up spending much of our time behind closed doors, catching up, having sex, and planning our next trip to see each other. I can count on one hand the number of actual _dates_ we've been on, and today feels like one of those infrequent but special times.

After the show, Nicky texts Alex to say she and her flavor of the month are heading to a club in New York and asks if we want to meet them there. It doesn't take much to convince me.

I string my arm through hers as we turn down Hudson Street. "Do you remember the last time we went to a bar?"

"When you almost got us arrested for public intoxication?"

"What about indecent exposure?"

"The sex was hot; I'll give you that." She arches a single brow. "But the cops showing up was kind of a mood killer."

We arrive at Henrietta Hudson's, and I read the marquee above the entrance: _Dyke Disco Tonight – $20 cover_.

"This is the longest running lesbian bar in Manhattan," Alex mentions. "Nicky and I used to come here like once a month in our glory days."

I can hear the 70s music echoing in the street. "I wish I knew about these bars when I lived in Darien."

"You turned 21 two years ago," she chuckles and leans over to kiss the side of my head. "It's not like you could've been partying for years and years."

I shrug. "Still."

"Greeting gals and pals!" I turn to see Nicky walking towards us. "Ready to show off your dance moves?"

Alex looks down at her own pants. "I'm not really dressed to go clubbing."

I grin. "Neither am I, but I wouldn't mind seeing Alex's disco moves."

She strings her arms around my neck and thrusts her pelvis against me. "Would you?"

"This is more of a bump-and-grind." I say as I match her shimmying hips. "John Travolta would not approve."

"Break it up, kids," Nicky says. "I want to introduce you to Lorna. We met at a slam poetry thing a couple weeks ago."

We both shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I've heard a lot about you," Lorna says in a thick Brooklyn accent. "It's nice to finally meet."

Nicky places a hand on each of our shoulders. "Are we going to stand out here or get our asses on the dance floor?"

Since we took the train into the city, neither of us has to drive tonight, so we can drink as much as we want without having similar consequences to the last time we went to a gay bar. It only takes one gin and tonic before Nicky convinces me to join her on the dance floor, but Alex isn't quite ready. As I shimmy to some 70s disco song, I watch Alex watching me. Something about the way she's leaning against the bar and staring at me through hooded eyes turns me on—it's like I'm putting on a show exclusively for her.

I dance by myself for a few minutes, and then a butchy looking woman starts moving with me. I am disinterested in dancing with anyone other than Alex, but when I glance at her, she gives me a look like she wants me to continue. The woman puts her hands on my hips, but I quickly remove them and lean closer so she can hear me say, "We can dance, but no touching." She removes her hands and steps close enough to move with me without touching, and I run my hands through my hair and close my eyes, feeling the rhythm and knowing Alex is enjoying this.

The next song is a familiar one: _More Than a Woman_ by The Bee Gees. I keep dancing, opening my eyes every so often to watch Alex finish her cocktail, and then she disappears. Maybe she went to get a round of drinks. Nevertheless, I keep dancing. Not a minute later, I feel someone grind against my backside as her hands glide down my thighs. I don't have to turn around to know who it is. I smile as I back into her, moving in time with every sway.

"How come she gets to touch you?" the butchy woman asks.

"She's my future wife," I respond, realizing that's literally the first time I've said those words aloud.

The woman makes a face and dismisses me with the flick of her wrist. I turn in Alex's arms.

"You looked good out here," she says in a husky voice that I have to strain to hear. She places her hands on my hips, tugging me impossibly close. "Too good."

We remain on the dancefloor through two more songs, partly dancing but mostly making out. We're not alone—there are lots of couples kissing, including Nicky and Lorna. It brings back the memory of fucking in the bathroom at the last bar we went to together, and I'd be lying if I said the thought didn't cross my mind.

"Want another drink?" Alex eventually asks.

"Maybe some water," I respond, allowing her to lead me off the dance floor. "I'm all sweaty."

Alex tightens her jaw, and I know I'm turning her on. "I can see that."

She gets us a couple bottles of water, and we sit in a dimly lit corner of the bar.

"I'm glad we did this." I squeeze her hand. "We don't go out enough."

She strings a piece of hair over my ear. "No, we don't."

"Let's change that."

She kisses me. "Let's."

We stay at the bar for another hour, dancing to two more songs and having one more drink before I start yawning.

Alex rubs my back. "Wanna get out of here?"

I nod.

"I'll let Nicky know." She disappears onto the dancefloor in search of her friend who hasn't stopped dancing the whole night.

I love all sides of Alex—her professional side, fun side, intelligent side, and sexual side. I love how she looks after me. I especially love watching her eyes change to a darker shade of green when we're in the throes of passion. I have a feeling I'll get to witness that tonight.

She stands in front of me. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Alex puts her hand at the small of my back and escorts me into the refreshingly cold night air.

"What time is it?"

She glances at her watch. "Just after midnight."

"Are they staying at the bar?"

She nods. "Nicky can dance all night."

I smile.

"Do you want to get a hotel room?" she asks.

I turn to her. "A hotel room? Tonight?"

She raises her shoulders. "Why not?"

"Won't that be expensive?" I ask. "I don't even have a change of clothes."

She turns onto Greenwich Street. "You'll sleep naked, and we can wear the same clothes tomorrow to take the train home."

It's little moments like this when I wish I knew Alex in her adventurous days. Did she do stuff like this often? Did she take women to bed in some foreign city at an expensive hotel?

She pulls out her phone and searches for nearby hotels. "Looks like there's a four-star property around the block."

We turn the corner and spot The Dominick on our right. Alex holds the door open for me.

The lobby is sleek and modern, and I could easily see wealthy hipsters staying here on a business trip to New York.

"Do you have any availability tonight?" Alex asks the front desk clerk.

He punches something into the computer. "Would a room with a king-sized bed work?"

She looks at me, and I nod.

"Perfect." She hands him her credit card.

"That'll be $318 plus tax," he says, taking the card.

"Ok."

I lean closer. "Are you sure you want to pay that much?"

She grins. "Positive."

We check into our room on the 19th floor, which has floor-to-ceiling windows with unparalleled views of the Manhattan skyline.

"This will do just fine," Alex comments as she saunters over to me.

There was never a question that we'd have sex tonight, but I much prefer doing it in a private hotel room than in Nicky's spare bedroom. Tonight's sex is slow and lazy; even our kisses are sloppy and lack finesse. It's exactly what I want from her after a long, exhausting day. I taste whiskey on her tongue and can't get enough. We don't sleep much that night, but we get our fair share of shut eye well into the morning before having to check out by 11 a.m.

* * *

Author's Note: One more chapter, and then the Epilogue. Thanks for hanging in there with me and for all the positive reviews!


	23. Chapter 23

The next evening as we're getting ready to go to my parents' house for dinner, I'm a bundle of nerves. I'm hoping the evening goes smoothly without any yelling or accusations, but I've been on the other side of my parents' scorn too often to be foolish about how they'll likely act. There's a slight chance my mom will be somewhat accepting of my relationship with Alex, but I don't think my dad will budge. I'm shocked he'd allow us to even come to his home as a couple.

Alex pokes her head into the bathroom. "Didn't you say we have to be there by six?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's six."

"Fuck." I quickly brush my hair, straighten my blouse and look at myself one last time in the mirror. "Do I look ok?"

She kisses me. "Always."

Despite Alex trying to make conversation, I'm mostly quiet on the short drive to their house. We park in the driveway, and I'm thankful to see Cal's car there and hope he joins us. He has always had my back and been a good buffer between me and my parents.

Alex squeezes my hand before getting out of the car. "If at any point, you want to leave, just say the word."

I nod. "Thank you."

We enter through the side door and into the kitchen just like we did a year ago, and my mom is busy at the stove while my dad is getting glasses out of the cupboard.

"We're here." I wipe my palms on my jeans. "Hi."

"Hello, Piper." She greets me with a kiss on each cheek.

"You're late," my dad says as he comes in for a hug.

"Sorry." I look down and take a deep breath. "You remember Alex?"

My father nods his hello and my mom shakes her hand.

I glance at my girlfriend, who looks as cool and collected as ever. She isn't afraid of my parents, though she might be scared of treating them like the assholes they are when she's around them. I know she wants this to go well because it's what_ I_ want, but she has nothing to gain from my parents' approval other than my peace of mind.

"Is Cal here?"

Just then, my brother enters the kitchen with a roll of paper towels. "This is the last roll in the basement." He notices my presence. "Hey, sis!" He hugs me, and then moves to Alex. "Welcome home."

"Thanks," I reply.

We make small talk that's almost as uncomfortable as silence. They ask about my classes, the weather in San Diego, the plane ride up here, and what I might do this summer. I haven't yet shared with him the fact that I might be moving back to Darien in June. We move to the dinner table, and the first question they address to Alex is if she'd like a glass of wine.

"Do you prefer red or white?" my dad asks.

"Whatever you have open is fine."

I squeeze her hand under the table, and then try turning the conversation to her. "Alex's next job will be at a rehab clinic in Las Vegas."

"She should be very busy then," my mother comments. It's not lost on me that she's referring to Alex in third person as if she isn't sitting two feet away.

"Plenty of drunks and addicts there," my dad responds. "I'm sure you'll have your fair share of clients."

"I hate to see anyone become addicted to alcohol or drugs, but from a therapist's standpoint, working in a community that has significant substance abuse issues keeps me on my toes," Alex says. "I like helping them get on a path to recovery."

"Have you always worked with substance abuse patients?" my mom asks.

I'm thankful she's at least including Alex in the conversation.

She nods. "That's my specialty, though when I travel to clinics across the country, I usually do more general counseling."

Predictably, my dad switches the conversation back to me. "What kind of counseling are you hoping to go into, Piper?"

"It's too soon to know." I pass the salad to Cal. "I'm only halfway through my first year of grad school."

"You said you were thinking about coming home for the summer," my mom notes.

I glance at Alex before responding with a simple, "That's what I'm hoping."

"Alex, did you do any internships when you were getting your master's degree?" At least Cal is interested in my girlfriend.

She tells them about her clinical experience as we finish the salad and move onto the main course. I watch her and my parents carefully. While Alex has no problem talking about her professional life, my parents seem disinterested. They continue trying to redirect the conversation to me, but I turn it back to Alex. It isn't until the dessert course when our relationship surfaces.

"The reason I'm here—why _we're_ here—is because it's been a year since I've been in this house," I begin. "You told me that you might be more accepting of my relationship in that amount of time, and I'm hoping that's the case."

"Your mother might've said that, but I didn't." My dad sets his fork against his plate and steeples his hands. "I come from a long line of conservative Protestants. In fact, my grandfather was a United States Senator back in the 40s. As you might imagine, I don't support homosexuality."

"Bill…" My mom tilts her head as a way of admonishment. "What your father is trying to say is that same sex couples are against biology—against how God made us."

"I'm not going to bring God into this," I state firmly, folding my hands in my lap. "We already went down that road last time I was here."

She pleads with me. "Why can't you two just be friends?"

"We _are_ friends," I respond. I don't want this to be another pointless argument, so I go on. "And we're more than that. We love each other; it doesn't matter if that's _in spite of_ or _because of_ our gender."

"How can you…" A look of disgust registers on his face. "Do _that_ with each other?"

A hot wave of irritation washes over me. "Why do you have to think of our relationship in terms of sex?" I raise my voice, and then I feel Alex's hand on my thigh, silently encouraging me to calm down. I take a deep breath before continuing. "That's such a small part of our relationship. Alex is thoughtful and funny and crazy smart. She wants the best for me even if that means living apart. Isn't that what love is supposed to be—unselfish and kind?"

"I think it's cool that you found someone, Pipes," my brother responds.

I give him a gentle smile.

"This is probably not going to come out as respectfully as I'd like, Carol and Bill, but I'm just going to say it." Alex pushes her dessert plate away. "For some reason, your approval means the world to Piper. She's terrified of disappointing you, and even worse, of losing her relationship with you. If we walk out the door tonight without even the tiniest bit of acceptance, you're going to sever all ties with your daughter." She pauses and glances my way. "My number one priority is to ensure Piper is happy, healthy and well-respected. Anyone who fucks with her will upset me and _destroy_ her." She adjusts her glasses. "I'm sorry, but I won't let that happen even if you're the people who raised her."

Cal's eyes are bugging out of his head, and my mom seems taken aback. My dad's stoic expression hasn't changed.

"It's clear that you love my daughter," my mom replies even though her tone makes me believe she's not _really_ sure her statement is true. "And I'm grateful that someone besides us is looking out for her."

My father leans forward, directing his full attention to me. "I don't want to lose you, Piper."

"Neither do I." I grab his hand as my eyes well up with tears. "Alex is right, I hate the thought of disappointing you." I shake my head. "But I can't make myself unlove Alex. I love her—_really_ love her—and I hope tonight you could see a glimmer of why my feelings are so strong."

"The thought of you two sleeping together upsets me greatly," he begins stiffly, pulling his hand away. "But maybe we can work around that. If we don't talk about that kind of stuff and you don't show public displays of affection, I might be able to support you."

"I'm going to hold hands with Alex and even kiss her on occasion," I reply, unwilling to cave to his archaic demands. "But maybe for the first few times we're in each other's company, we can refrain from doing those things in front of you." I turn to Alex. "Would you be ok with that?"

She shrugs. "If that's what we need to do for now, yeah."

"I'll try," my dad offers.

"That's all I ask." I scoot my chair out and hug him, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. My mom and brother join us.

We sit back in our chairs, and my dad turns to Alex. "That was some speech."

Sometimes Alex's singular brow lift signifies that she's turned on, but other times like now, it's her _don't fuck with me_ look. "I meant every word."

The evening ends with more general conversation about life in San Diego and the ins and outs of my parents' friends in Darien. We help clean up, and then we leave their house just before nine. I'm not prepared to tell them about our move to Darien, because it isn't a done deal. If I get into U Conn, Stamford, and Alex still wants to move back here, I'll let them know our decision.

"That wasn't too bad," Alex says as we reach the car.

"Are you kidding? It went far better than expected." I buckle my seatbelt. "Thank you for saying those things about me."

"Like I told your dad." She leans over to kiss me. "I meant every word."

* * *

As we fall asleep in Nicky's spare bedroom that night, I think about how far Alex and I have come. From her being my therapist, to four years of yearning, to being separated with my move to San Diego, to getting semi-approval from my parents, we've been through our fair share of ups and downs. Even at our lowest point, I never doubted our love for each other. As I watched her stand up to my parents tonight, I realized more fully than ever that I want to spend the rest of my life with Alex Vause, and that might begin sooner than I thought as we contemplate a move back to Darien.

I find out the first week of April that I got into U Conn's graduate program, and I didn't realize how happy it would make me. They accepted all of my credits from UCSD, so I'll only have one more year of schooling followed by a semester of interning and taking one evening class. Two weeks after this good news, Alex signs a contract with the Peterman Clinic to begin working full-time on May 1. Her salary will be 10% more than she makes now, and we're both over the moon. Nicky is excited to welcome her back to her old digs, and the plan is for me to move in with them when I return to Darien on June 4.

Now it's time for me to fill my parents in, and I have to hope they're as excited as I am even if it means living with Alex.

"Hi, Dad. Is Mom around?"

He ducks the phone under his chin and calls for her.

"I have some good news," I say.

"What is it, dear?" my mom inquires.

"I didn't want to tell you before it happened, but I've been admitted to U Conn in Stamford. I'm transferring."

"You're moving home?" she asks.

I nod. "Yeah. I'll start classes in late August."

"This is certainly good news," my dad says. "But I thought you loved living in California?"

"I do, but not without Alex." This will be the tough part to relay to them. "She's been trying to get a job in San Diego for a year, and nothing has come up. It's like people don't leave the area," I begin. "I want to be with her, and she wants to live in Darien, so we're coming home…_together_."

They're silent at first.

"If she's what it takes to get you closer to us, so be it," my mom finally offers. "When are you moving?"

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I'm pleased with her response—it's the best I could've hoped for. "As soon as I'm done here, which is in early June."

"That soon?" my dad asks.

"We've turned your old bedroom into an office," my mom confesses.

"Good. I mean, I'm not moving home as in back in the house with you." I swallow hard, hoping not to come across as ungrateful. "Alex and I are going to live with her friend, Nicky, until we find an apartment together."

"Did she get a job here?"

"Yeah, she…" I was going to tell them where she'll work, but that might bring back memories that I'd rather not resurface at this time. "She did…and she got a raise."

"We can put your old room back the way it was," my dad offers.

"No, thanks though." I hope he doesn't take this any further, demanding that I live at home in exchange for the tuition they'll pay on my behalf. Even if they refuse to pay, I'm committed to taking out loans. "I'll be fine living with Alex; it's what I want."

"I'm just glad you're moving back," my mom says.

"Me, too." I touch my hand to my heart, hoping this marks the beginning of a new relationship for us with Alex squarely in the picture.

The End

* * *

Author's Note: Well, that's 23 chapters in the books! I'll post the Epilogue tomorrow. Thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews. They go a long way especially in light of the quarantine situation right now.


	24. Chapter 24

**Epilogue**

"I'm happy to hear how well you're doing, Mr. Roth, but I'm sorry this will be the last time we see each other," I say as I sign my client's release form.

"I'll miss chatting with you, too, Alex," he replies. "But I think seeing you twice a week for the past six months was plenty enough for me."

I smile. "I don't know if you know this, but you were my first client after I bought the practice."

"Really?" He shrugs into his jacket. "I'm honored."

I walk with him to the door. "Thank you for always showing up with a good attitude."

He touches my shoulder. "Thank _you_ for helping me battle addiction."

I finish up a mound of paperwork at my desk, and then glance at the clock, realizing I'm six minutes late for my 5 p.m. meeting. I head down the hallway into the break room. "Hey. Sorry I'm late."

My co-worker takes a sip of Evolution Fresh green juice. It seems to be the only thing she drinks these days. "Do we really have to do this today?"

"Yes." I plop a stack of resumes on the table. "New clients are having to wait at least six weeks to get an appointment, and you're about to pop. We need a third, full-time therapist."

As if on cue, her oversized belly bumps the counter. "I'm exhausted, and my feet are killing me."

I pull the chair out for her to sit. "I'll rub your feet as we comb through these resumes."

"Fine." She pulls a piece of paper from the top of the stack. "I remember reading this first one. She sounds promising."

"She's only been licensed for a year," I respond, taking her shoes off for her. She hasn't been able to reach her feet in two weeks. "Her inexperience doesn't bother you?"

"I'd been licensed for six months when we bought the Peterman Clinic," she says, allowing her head to fall back. "Ahhh, that feels good."

"You were different."

Even though her head is arched back, I watch a smirk form on her face. "I was different because you were fucking me."

I stop massaging her foot. "That's not the _only_ reason. And what's with the past tense? I'm _still_ fucking you."

"We haven't had sex in like a month," she observes.

"That's entirely false," I let out an incredulous laugh. "I have sex with you at least a couple times a week. If anyone should be complaining, it's me."

She places her hands on her stomach. "I can't exactly pleasure you in my current state."

"I realize that, but don't say we haven't had sex in a month." I go back to massaging her left foot.

"Maybe I can talk dirty to you or something," she suggests.

That causes me to laugh. Piper and I tried having phone sex several times, but her dirty talk leaves a lot to be desired.

She lets her head lull back again. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"You were born to be a therapist. I watched you grow into a knowledgeable, compassionate counselor over time. Other than lacking years of clinical experience, you had what it took to start your own practice at a younger age than most."

"I appreciate the accolades, Al." She adjusts her head back to normal. "And I think this woman…" she glances at the resume. "Maneet Achal, who earned her master's degree from Yale, is worth interviewing."

"I'd like to talk to four or five of them on the phone, and then maybe bring two to our office for in-person interviews."

"Sounds good."

We spend the next hour reviewing 20 resumes, and then I call our receptionist into the break room. It's the same receptionist who worked here all those years ago when I was still working on my licensing.

"Leia, would you mind setting up phone interviews with these candidates?" I hand her the five resumes.

"No problem, Alex," she responds. "Should I look at your schedules to see when you're free?"

"Neither of us is going to have a long enough break to do the interviews during working hours," Piper replies. "Maybe ask the candidates who live in the Central or Western time zones if they could talk around 5 o'clock our time."

"And see if the East coast ones—I think two of them live locally—can talk before we start seeing clients in the morning," I add.

"Anything else?" she asks.

"No thanks," I say. "You can go home if you want. We'll lock up."

"See you tomorrow," she replies with a wink and a smile.

"Take me home." Piper stretches her arms out. "But first, help me out of this chair."

I pull her to her feet and crane my neck to kiss her. "Before long, I won't be able to reach your mouth with your belly in the way."

She takes my hand and hobbles down the hallway. "That's not something you should tell your pregnant wife."

"I love your baby bump." I rub her tummy. "I love it so much that maybe we could consider doing it again."

She stops short. "We haven't yet had the pleasure of seeing how raising _one_ kid will affect us. Maybe we can hold off on talks of number two for at least a year."

"You'll be 29 next year. Isn't that kind of old to get pregnant?" I tease, knowing I'll likely be faced with physical retaliation.

She slaps my arm as expected.

"Ow!"

"You want to talk about getting old? You're pushing 40."

I open the door for her. "They say 40 is the new 30."

"I always wonder who 'they' are in those statements," she replies. "Are 'they' the authority on aging? Like geriatric specialists who study people of all ages to determine how young or old they feel?"

"I don't know, babe," I chuckle. "And you're right, I'm almost officially _old_."

"You're still hot," she says as I help her into the car. "And I like that you're older. I always have."

"Let's see if you're signing the same tune when I'm 60."

"I'm guessing 60 is the new 50, so you'll probably still be hot then."

I start the engine. "Thanks for boosting my ego."

"By the way, I talked to my dad today."

I twist my neck and look at her. "Is he still wondering how I knocked you up?"

She snorts. "You know he was joking, right?"

I roll my eyes. Although Bill has come around considerably, he still doesn't enjoy our public displays of affection. Even when we kissed at our wedding, I heard he looked away. Nevertheless, he's excited about being a grandfather even though the baby will have two moms.

"They're coming over for dinner tomorrow night," Piper says.

Spending time with the Chapmans is not my favorite activity, but despite living in the same town, we haven't seen them much. "It's on my calendar," I sigh.

"You have to admit, they've gotten better about us."

I turn down our street. "It only took four years."

"My mom helped plan our wedding just last year."

"She's been more tolerant than him," I respond.

"Once he has a grandchild, he'll be more accepting."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Moving back to Darien has been a godsend. I missed the hustle and bustle of the East Coast, not to mention our proximity to Manhattan, and of course, Nicky. Piper missed her brother, and if pressed hard enough, she'd admit to missing her parents, too. As time moved on, they _did_ become more tolerant of us, especially when we were still together after Piper finished grad school.

I'd always appreciated working with Drs. Peterman and Eckstein, so when they decided to retire and sell the clinic after Piper finished her master's, it didn't take much to convince her that we should buy it. She'd been working at St. Ann's Hospital in the psych ward, but she didn't like her hours and had every intention of moving to a private clinic within the next year or so. When Dr. Peterman suggested that Piper and I run the clinic together, she was thrilled to start the next chapter of our lives together.

We kept all the clients but changed the name to the Vauseman Clinic. Piper was the one who suggested combining our last names, and while I protested at first, I've now come to appreciate it so much that we've agreed that it'll be our child's legal last name.

I pull into our driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac. "Hang on." I quickly get out of the car and help my wife out of her seat.

"Why didn't we buy that mini-SUV a few months ago?" she asks as she holds onto my arm. "The seats in this car are too low."

"Because we couldn't agree on which one to buy."

"I don't care if it's the Audi or the Mazda, Alex. I just need something easier to get in and out of for these last three weeks, not to mention a more reliable car than your 2010 Jetta."

"Don't dig on my Jetta." I open the front door. "How about you have dinner with your parents tomorrow night, and I'll go buy a car?"

She gives me a look. "Nice try."

We spend the evening very similarly to every other evening we've spent since Piper got pregnant, which is to say we eat a healthy dinner, discuss a few of our clients, and then watch _Jeopardy_ before retiring to our bedroom. Before dozing off, Piper reads a book called _The Happiest Baby on the Block_, while I read _The Whole-Brain Child_. We've been reading parenting books for the last eight months, swapping them when we're done.

This is nowhere near the life I expected. In my early-20s, I thought surely I'd still be working for the international drug cartel and making millions. In my early-30s, I thought I'd be living a sex-filled, unattached life. Of course, I met Piper when I was 29, but it wasn't until we actually got together three and a half years later that I abandoned the notion of being alone for the rest of my life.

They say people can't change you—only you can change yourself; however, I believe people can influence or affect you deeply. That's what Piper did—she affected me profoundly long before we could be a couple. I still marvel at that sometimes. How could a 17-year-girl have gotten under my skin and never let go? Piper didn't pursue me in college. I was the one who wanted to keep in touch, and she went along with my request. Back then I couldn't even _fathom_ building a life with her. And here we are, married with a baby on the way.

Life might not have turned out the way I thought it would, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

* * *

"Ava, stop bouncing the ball on your brother's head," I request as I trip over a toy on my way to the kitchen.

"He likes it," my daughter responds. "Look, he's laughing."

"I don't want you to mistakenly pick up the wrong ball—one that's hard—and try the same thing, crushing his skull."

"Dramatic much?" Alex asks as she mashes sweet potatoes.

I toss the offending toy in a wicker bin. "All we need is for her to injure our son again."

"The first time wasn't Ava's fault. He was just starting to walk, and she led him too close to the fireplace."

I stand across from her, hands on my hips. "After four stitches and an $800 medical bill, I'd rather not encourage her to hit him with anything."

"Babe, you gotta loosen up." Alex sets the masher down, placing her hands on my shoulders. "They're kids; they're going to play and sometimes get hurt. If Mason starts crying, we'll address it, but look at him. He's smiling."

I release a long breath.

She kisses my forehead. "You good?"

I nod.

She releases me. "Kids, it's time to eat."

Ava runs into the dining area, and Mason makes his way over, tripping when he tries to keep up with his sister. He gets to his feet and grabs a chair. "Up!"

Alex scoops sweet potatoes onto two plates, and then cuts a chicken breast for our daughter as I help Mason into his highchair. Our kitten slithers between my legs. I wasn't on board to get a cat three months ago, but when the neighbor's cat had a litter of kittens, Alex and I fell in love with this little guy.

"Are you hungry, too, Juice?"

He meows again.

I return to the kitchen to fill his food bowl. "What time are Nicky and Lorna coming over?"

"I told them around 7:30 so we could at least put Mason down."

"Mama, can I have apple juice?"

"We have milk with dinner, kiddo," Alex replies, returning to the kitchen to grab Ava's sippy cup. "You can have apple juice with lunch."

"Where does milk come from?"

"Cows," I respond, putting a bib on both children. "But there are other types of milk, too, like soy and almond milk."

"Which one do I drink?"

"Cow," I reply.

"What sound does a cow make?"

"Mooo!" she giggles. "And a duck goes quack, quack."

We play this game throughout dinner while I feed Mason and Alex gets the same components of our children's meal prepared in an adult version with a tomato and cucumber salad. Before we had kids, we'd often eat dinner at 7:30 or 8 o'clock, but now we try to eat when they eat so we can be at the table as a family. That's one thing Alex insisted upon—that dinner would always be communal even when the kids are older. She and her mom had the same rule until their work shifts didn't align.

"Did you buy more wine today?" I ask.

"I bought six bottles and got 20 percent off," she replies, returning to the table with our meals. "I hate going to the store every week to buy a single bottle."

I smile. "Next time, buy a case."

"Good idea." She leans over to kiss me. "Is that yummy, Mason?"

He nods and makes a sound.

"I think it's yummy, too," Ava responds. "I like orange food."

Alex fills our water glasses. "What other foods are orange?"

"An orange, obviously," she replies.

I'm impressed with her pronunciation of the word _obviously_.

"Pumpkins," she continues. "Carrots."

By the time we go through other foods and colors, dinner is over.

"Aunt Nicky is coming over tonight," Alex says as she helps Mason down.

"Her hair is orange!" our daughter giggles.

"Even though it is kind of orange, we call that red hair," I try. "Aunt Nicky is a red head."

She gives me a quizzical look. "Her hair isn't red."

"It's kind of close," Alex chimes in. "Like your doll…you know the one."

She runs into the living room to search for her red-headed doll.

"Did you see this month's financial statement?" Alex asks.

"I did." I bring the plates into the kitchen. "I can't believe how much money we're making. Is that wrong?"

"That we're making so much?" she asks.

I scrub the plates. "Yeah."

"People aren't typically paying out of pocket," she says as she puts leftovers into Tupperware. "Insurance covers more than half of most of our clients' bills, and we did thorough research on what clinics like ours are charging. We're on the low end."

"I know…" I rinse out Ava's cup. "I'd like to do more pro-bono stuff. Maybe we could present at schools or something."

"I love the way your mind works." She kisses me as she breezes by to put the Tupperware in the fridge. "We should also discuss hiring a fourth therapist."

"I know," I sigh. "It's just finding the time to interview them that sucks. Remember how long it took us to hire Maneet?"

We'd been vacillating between two candidates, and then Piper went into labor a week before her due date. Knowing she'd be out for a minimum of six weeks, I had to hire someone quickly to take her place. Maneet already lived in the area, so we went with her over the guy from Chicago. She turned out to be the perfect choice.

She nods. "If we're more proactive, we can schedule an hour or two out of our days leading up to the interview."

"Remind me of that on Monday."

She puts both hands on the counter, effectively trapping me against the sink and lowering her mouth to kiss my neck. "Would you be up for sex later tonight?"

"Is that what we've resorted to?" I snort, rinsing my hands before turning in her arms. "Scheduling sex?"

"It's either that or…" she places a trail of sloppy kisses up my neck. "We do it when the mood strikes."

I know she's kidding, but I miss those days when we could fuck on the kitchen floor if it sounded appealing or if we just couldn't quite make it to the bed.

"This is my doll that looks like Aunt Nicky," Ava announces with the item in her hand. "She's a red head?"

Alex pulls back and wipes her mouth. "Yes."

"Oh." Ava touches her hair. "Will you help me change her outfit. I want her to be a firefighter."

Alex winks at me. "To be continued."

I smile. "Can't wait."

I always thought I'd be married and have a child or two, but never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be with Alex. I didn't even allow myself to _hope_ for this until I finished grad school. Every day, I think I couldn't love her any more, yet I find a way to make it happen. I'll never forget years ago when she told me, "You'd be amazed at how much capacity my heart has for you." She's right—our love keeps getting stronger.

This is stupid, really—no one should be as happy as I am. I'm eternally grateful that I get to spend my life with the woman I've loved since I was a teenager and that we get to raise a family together.

"Uh oh, mommy…" Ava enters the kitchen with her hair caught in the wheels of her firetruck.

"Alex!"

The End

* * *

Author's Note: I thoroughly enjoyed writing this LONG story! This felt like the right way to end it, but for those of you who have a hankering for Domestic Vauseman, stay tuned…Thank you to each of you who reviewed my work. Stay healthy out there.


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